Sir Gawain and the Green Knight

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Þat Gawayn hatz ben my gest at Goddez awen fest.”Grant merci, sir,’ quoþ Gawayn, ‘in god fayth hit is yowrez,Al þe honour is your awen — þe he3e kyng yow 3elde!And I am wy3e at your wylle to worch youre hest,As I am halden þerto, in hy3e and in lo3e, bi ri3t.’ Þe lorde fast can hym payne To holde lenger þe kny3t; To hym answarez Gawayn Bi non way þat he my3t.Then frayned þe freke ful fayre at himseluenQuat derue dede had hym dryuen at þat dere tymeSo kenly fro þe kyngez kourt to kayre al his one,Er þe halidayez holly were halet out of toun.’For soþe, sir,’ quoþ þe segge, ‘3e sayn bot þe trawþe,A he3e ernde and a hasty me hade fro þo wonez,For I am sumned myselfe to sech to a place,I ne wot in worlde whederwarde to wende hit to fynde.I nolde bot if I hit negh my3t on Nw 3eres morneFor alle þe londe inwyth Logres, so me oure lorde help!Forþy, sir, þis enquest I require yow here,Þat 3e me telle with trawþe if euer 3e tale herde

Of þe grene chapel, quere hit on grounde stondez,And of þe kny3t þat hit kepes, of colour of grene.Þer watz stabled bi statut a steuen vus bytweneTo mete þat mon at þat mere, 3if I my3t last;And of þat ilk Nw 3ere bot neked now wontez,And I wolde loke on þat lede, if God me let wolde,Gladloker, bi Goddez sun, þen any god welde!Forþi, iwysse, bi 3owre wylle, wende me bihoues,Naf I now to busy bot bare þre dayez,And me als fayn to falle feye as fayly of myyn ernde.’Þenne la3ande quoþ þe lorde, ‘Now leng þe byhoues,For I schal teche yow to þat terme bi þe tymez ende,Þe grene chapayle vpon grounde greue yow no more;Bot 3e schal be in yowre bed, burne, at þyn ese,Quyle forth dayez, and ferk on þe fyrst of þe 3ere,

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And cum to þat merk at mydmorn, to make quat yow likez in spenne. Dowellez whyle New 3eres daye, And rys, and raykez þenne, Mon schal yow sette in waye, Hit is not two myle henne.’Þenne watz Gawan ful glad, and gomenly he la3ed:’Now I þonk yow þryuandely þur3 alle oþer þynge,Now acheued is my chaunce, I schal at your wylleDowelle, and ellez do quat 3e demen.’Þenne sesed hym þe syre and set hym bysyde,Let þe ladiez be fette to lyke hem þe better.Þer watz seme solace by hemself stille;Þe lorde let for luf lotez so myry,As wy3 þat wolde of his wyte, ne wyst quat he my3t.Þenne he carped to þe kny3t, criande loude,’3e han demed to do þe dede þat I bidde;Wyl 3e halde þis hes here at þys onez?”3e, sir, for soþe,’ sayd þe segge trwe,’Whyl I byde in yowre bor3e, be bayn to 3owre hest.”For 3e haf trauayled,’ quoþ þe tulk, ‘towen fro ferre,And syþen waked me wyth, 3e arn not wel warystNauþer of sostnaunce ne of slepe, soþly I knowe;

3e schal lenge in your lofte, and ly3e in your eseTo-morn quyle þe messequyle, and to mete wendeWhen 3e wyl, wyth my wyf, þat wyth yow schal sitteAnd comfort yow with compayny, til I to cort torne; 3e lende, And I schal erly ryse, On huntyng wyl I wende.’ Gauayn grantez alle þyse, Hym heldande, as þe hende.’3et firre,’ quoþ þe freke, ‘a forwarde we make:Quat-so-euer I wynne in þe wod hit worþez to yourez,And quat chek so 3e acheue chaunge me þerforne.Swete, swap we so, sware with trawþe,Queþer, leude, so lymp, lere oþer better.”Bi God,’ quoþ Gawayn þe gode, ‘I grant þertylle,

“folio” n=”106r”
And þat yow lyst for to layke, lef hit me þynkes.”Who bryngez vus þis beuerage, þis bargayn is maked’:So sayde þe lorde of þat lede; þay la3ed vchone,Þay dronken and daylyeden and dalten vnty3tel,Þise lordez and ladyez, quyle þat hem lyked;And syþen with Frenkysch fare and fele fayre lotezÞay stoden and stemed and stylly speken,Kysten ful comlyly and ka3ten her leue.With mony leude ful ly3t and lemande torchesVche burne to his bed watz bro3t at þe laste, ful softe. To bed 3et er þay 3ede, Recorded couenauntez ofte; Þe olde lorde of þat leude Cowþe wel halde layk alofte.Ful erly bifore þe day þe folk vprysen,Gestes þat go wolde hor gromez þay calden,And þay busken vp bilyue blonkkez to sadel,

Tyffen her takles, trussen her males,Richen hem þe rychest, to ryde alle arayde,Lepen vp ly3tly, lachen her brydeles,Vche wy3e on his way þer hym wel lyked.Þe leue lorde of þe londe watz not þe lastArayed for þe rydyng, with renkkez ful mony;Ete a sop hastyly, when he hade herde masse,With bugle to bent-felde he buskez bylyue.By þat any dayly3t lemed vpon erþeHe with his haþeles on hy3e horsses weren.Þenne þise cacheres þat couþe cowpled hor houndez,Vnclosed þe kenel dore and calde hem þeroute,Blwe bygly in buglez þre bare mote;Braches bayed þerfore and breme noyse maked;And þay chastysed and charred on chasyng þat went,A hundreth of hunteres, as I haf herde telle, of þe best. To trystors vewters 3od, Couples huntes of kest;

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Þer ros for blastez gode Gret rurd in þat forest.At þe fyrst quethe of þe quest quaked þe wylde;Der drof in þe dale, doted for drede,Hi3ed to þe hy3e, bot heterly þay wereRestayed with þe stablye, þat stoutly ascryed.Þay let þe herttez haf þe gate, with þe hy3e hedes,Þe breme bukkez also with hor brode paumez;For þe fre lorde hade defende in fermysoun tymeÞat þer schulde no mon meue to þe male dere.Þe hindez were halden in with hay! and war!Þe does dryuen with gret dyn to þe depe sladez;Þer my3t mon se, as þay slypte, slentyng of arwes — At vche wende vnder wande wapped a flone — Þat bigly bote on þe broun with ful brode hedez.What! þay brayen, and bleden, bi bonkkez þay de3en,And ay rachches in a res radly hem fol3es,Hunterez wyth hy3e horne hasted hem afterWyth such a crakkande kry as klyffes haden brusten.

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