Sir Gawain and the Green Knight

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Þat yow lausen ne lyst — and þat I leue nouþe;And þat 3e telle me þat now trwly I pray yow,For alle þe lufez vpon lyue layne not þe soþe for gile.’ Þe kny3t sayde, ‘Be sayn Jon,’ And smeþely con he smyle, ‘In fayth I welde ri3t non, Ne non wil welde þe quile.”Þat is a worde,’ quoþ þat wy3t, ‘þat worst is of alle,
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Bot I am swared for soþe, þat sore me þinkkez.Kysse me now comly, and I schal cach heþen,I may bot mourne vpon molde, as may þat much louyes.’Sykande ho swe3e doun and semly hym kyssed,And siþen ho seueres hym fro, and says as ho stondes,’Now, dere, at þis departyng do me þis ese,Gif me sumquat of þy gifte, þi gloue if hit were,Þat I may mynne on þe, mon, my mournyng to lassen.”Now iwysse,’ quoþ þat wy3e, ‘I wolde I hade hereÞe leuest þing for þy luf þat I in londe welde,For 3e haf deserued, for soþe, sellyly ofteMore rewarde bi resoun þen I reche my3t;Bot to dele yow for drurye þat dawed bot neked,Hit is not your honour to haf at þis tymeA gloue for a garysoun of Gawaynez giftez,And I am here an erande in erdez vncouþe,And haue no men wyth no malez with menskful þingez;Þat mislykez me, ladé, for luf at þis tyme,Iche tolke mon do as he is tan, tas to non ille ne pine.’ ‘Nay, hende of hy3e honours,’ Quoþ þat lufsum vnder lyne, ‘Þa3 I hade no3t of yourez, 3et schulde 3e haue of myne.’Ho ra3t hym a riche rynk of red golde werkez,Wyth a starande ston stondande alofteÞat bere blusschande bemez as þe bry3t sunne;Wyt 3e wel, hit watz worth wele ful hoge.Bot þe renk hit renayed, and redyly he sayde,

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‘I wil no giftez, for Gode, my gay, at þis tyme;I haf none yow to norne, ne no3t wyl I take.’Ho bede hit hym ful bysily, and he hir bode wernes,And swere swyfte by his sothe þat he hit sese nolde,And ho soré þat he forsoke, and sayde þerafter,’If 3e renay my rynk, to ryche for hit semez,3e wolde not so hy3ly halden be to me,I schal gif yow my girdel, þat gaynes yow lasse.’
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Ho la3t a lace ly3tly þat leke vmbe hir sydez,Knit vpon hir kyrtel vnder þe clere mantyle,Gered hit watz with grene sylke and with golde schaped,No3t bot arounde brayden, beten with fyngrez;And þat ho bede to þe burne, and blyþely biso3t,Þa3 hit vnworþi were, þat he hit take wolde.And he nay þat he nolde neghe in no wyseNauþer golde ne garysoun, er God hym grace sendeTo acheue to þe chaunce þat he hade chosen þere.’And þerfore, I pray yow, displese yow no3t,And lettez be your bisinesse, for I bayþe hit yow neuer to graunte; I am derely to yow biholde Bicause of your sembelaunt, And euer in hot and colde To be your trwe seruaunt.”Now forsake 3e þis silke,’ sayde þe burde þenne,’For hit is symple in hitself? And so hit wel semez.Lo! so hit is littel, and lasse hit is worþy;Bot who-so knew þe costes þat knit ar þerinne,He wolde hit prayse at more prys, parauenture;For quat gome so is gorde with þis grene lace,While he hit hade hemely halched aboute,Þer is no haþel vnder heuen tohewe hym þat my3t,For he my3t not be slayn for sly3t vpon erþe.’Þen kest þe kny3t, and hit come to his hertHit were a juel for þe jopardé þat hym iugged were:When he acheued to þe chapel his chek for to fech,My3t he haf slypped to be vnslayn, þe sle3t were noble.

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Þenne he þulged with hir þrepe and þoled hir to speke,And ho bere on hym þe belt and bede hit hym swyþe — And he granted and hym gafe with a goud wylle — And biso3t hym, for hir sake, disceuer hit neuer,Bot to lelly layne fro hir lorde; þe leude hym acordezÞat neuer wy3e schulde hit wyt, iwysse, bot þay twayne for no3te; He þonkked hir oft ful swyþe, Ful þro with hert and þo3t.
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Bi þat on þrynne syþe Ho hatz kyst þe kny3t so to3t.Thenne lachchez ho hir leue, and leuez hym þere,For more myrþe of þat mon mo3t ho not gete.When ho watz gon, Sir Gawayn gerez hym sone,Rises and riches hym in araye noble,Lays vp þe luf-lace þe lady hym ra3t,Hid hit ful holdely, þer he hit eft fonde.Syþen cheuely to þe chapel choses he þe waye,Preuély aproched to a prest, and prayed hym þereÞat he wolde lyste his lyf and lern hym betterHow his sawle schulde be saued when he schuld seye heþen.Þere he schrof hym schyrly and schewed his mysdedez,Of þe more and þe mynne, and merci besechez,And of absolucioun he on þe segge calles;And he asoyled hym surely and sette hym so cleneAs domezday schulde haf ben di3t on þe morn.And syþen he mace hym as mery among þe fre ladyes,With comlych caroles and alle kynnes ioye,As neuer he did bot þat daye, to þe derk ny3t, with blys. Vche mon hade daynté þare Of hym, and sayde, ‘Iwysse, Þus myry he watz neuer are, Syn he com hider, er þis.’Now hym lenge in þat lee, þer luf hym bityde!3et is þe lorde on þe launde ledande his gomnes.He hatz forfaren þis fox þat he fol3ed longe;As he sprent ouer a spenne to spye þe schrewe,
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Þer as he herd þe howndes þat hasted hym swyþe,Renaud com richchande þur3 a ro3e greue,And alle þe rabel in a res ry3t at his helez.Þe wy3e watz war of þe wylde, and warly abides,And braydez out þe bry3t bronde, and at þe best castez.And he schunt for þe scharp, and schulde haf arered;A rach rapes hym to, ry3t er he my3t,And ry3t bifore þe hors fete þay fel on hym alle,
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And woried me þis wyly wyth a wroth noyse.Þe lorde ly3tez bilyue, and lachez hym sone,Rased hym ful radly out of þe rach mouþes,Haldez he3e ouer his hede, halowez faste,And þer bayen hym mony braþ houndez.Huntes hy3ed hem þeder with hornez ful mony,Ay rechatande ary3t til þay þe renk se3en.Bi þat watz comen his compeyny noble,Alle þat euer ber bugle blowed at ones,And alle þise oþer halowed þat hade no hornes;Hit watz þe myriest mute þat euer men herde,Þe rich rurd þat þer watz raysed for Renaude saule with lote. Hor houndez þay þer rewarde, Her hedez þay fawne and frote, And syþen þay tan Reynarde, And tyruen of his cote.And þenne þay helden to home, for hit watz nie3 ny3t,Strakande ful stoutly in hor store hornez.Þe lorde is ly3t at þe laste at hys lef home,Fyndez fire vpon flet, þe freke þer-byside,Sir Gawayn þe gode, þat glad watz withalle,Among þe ladies for luf he ladde much ioye;He were a bleaunt of blwe þat bradde to þe erþe,His surkot semed hym wel þat softe watz forred,And his hode of þat ilke henged on his schulder,Blande al of blaunner were boþe al aboute.He metez me þis godmon inmyddez þe flore,And al with gomen he hym gret, and goudly he sayde,’I schal fylle vpon fyrst oure forwardez nouþe,

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Þat we spedly han spoken, þer spared watz no drynk.’Þen acoles he þe kny3t and kysses hym þryes,As sauerly and sadly as he hem sette couþe.’Bi Kryst,’ quoþ þat oþer kny3t, ‘3e cach much seleIn cheuisaunce of þis chaffer, 3if 3e hade goud chepez.”3e, of þe chepe no charg,’ quoþ chefly þat oþer,’As is pertly payed þe chepez þat I a3te.’
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‘Mary,’ quoþ þat oþer mon, ‘myn is bihynde,For I haf hunted al þis day, and no3t haf I getenBot þis foule fox felle — þe fende haf þe godez! — And þat is ful pore for to pay for suche prys þingesAs 3e haf þry3t me here þro, suche þre cosses so gode.’ ‘Ino3,’ quoþ Sir Gawayn, ‘I þonk yow, bi þe rode’, And how þe fox watz slayn He tolde hym as þay stode.With merþe and mynstralsye, with metez at hor wylle,Þay maden as mery as any men mo3ten — With la3yne of ladies, with lotez of bordesGawayn and þe godemon so glad were þay boþe — Bot if þe douthe had doted, oþer dronken ben oþer.Boþe þe mon and þe meyny maden mony iapez,Til þe sesoun watz se3en þat þay seuer moste;Burnez to hor bedde behoued at þe laste.Þenne lo3ly his leue at þe lorde fyrstFochchez þis fre mon, and fayre he hym þonkkez:’Of such a selly soiorne as I haf hade here,Your honour at þis hy3e fest, þe hy3e kyng yow 3elde!I 3ef yow me for on of yourez, if yowreself lykez,For I mot nedes, as 3e wot, meue to-morne,And 3e me take sum tolke to teche, as 3e hy3t,Þe gate to þe grene chapel, as God wyl me sufferTo dele on Nw 3erez day þe dome of my wyrdes.”In god fayþe,’ quoþ þe godmon, ‘wyth a goud wylleAl þat euer I yow hy3t halde schal I redé.’Þer asyngnes he a seruaunt to sett hym in þe waye,

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And coundue hym by þe downez, þat he no drechch had,For to ferk þur3 þe fryth and fare at þe gaynest bi greue. Þe lorde Gawayn con þonk, Such worchip he wolde hym weue. Þen at þo ladyez wlonk Þe kny3t hatz tan his leue.

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