Medieval

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight

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Forþi an aunter in erde I attle to schawe,Þat a selly in si3t summe men hit holden,And an outtrage awenture of Arthurez wonderez.If 3e 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 and stoken In stori stif and stronge, With lel letteres loken, In londe so hatz ben longe.Þis kyng lay at Camylot vpon KrystmasseWith mony luflych lorde, ledez of þe best,Rekenly of þe Rounde Table alle þo rich breþer,With rych reuel ory3t and rechles merþes.Þer tournayed tulkes by tymez ful mony,Justed ful jolilé þise gentyle kni3tes,Syþen kayred to þe court caroles to make.For þer þe fest watz ilyche ful fiften dayes,With alle þe mete and þe mirþe þat men couþe avyse;Such glaum ande gle glorious to here,Dere dyn vpon day, daunsyng on ny3tes,Al watz hap vpon he3e in hallez and chambrezWith lordez and ladies, as leuest him þo3t.With all þe wele of þe worlde þay woned þer samen,Þe most kyd kny3tez vnder Krystes seluen,And þe louelokkest ladies þat euer lif haden,And he þe comlokest kyng þat þe court haldes;For al watz þis fayre folk in her first age, on sille, Þe hapnest vnder heuen, Kyng hy3est mon of wylle; Hit were now gret nye to neuen So hardy a here on hille.Wyle Nw 3er watz so 3ep þat hit watz nwe cummen,Þat day doubble on þe dece watz þe douth serued.Fro þe kyng watz cummen with kny3tes into þe halle,
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Þe chauntré of þe chapel cheued to an ende,Loude crye watz þer kest of clerkez and oþer,

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Nowel nayted onewe, neuened ful ofte;And syþen riche forth runnen to reche hondeselle,3e3ed 3eres-3iftes on hi3, 3elde hem bi hond,Debated busyly aboute þo giftes;Ladies la3ed ful loude, þo3 þay lost haden,And he þat wan watz not wrothe, þat may 3e 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 ouerOf tryed tolouse, and tars tapites innoghe,Þat were enbrawded and beten wyth þe best gemmesÞat my3t be preued of prys wyth penyes to bye, in daye. Þe comlokest to discrye Þer glent with y3en gray, A semloker þat euer he sy3e Soth mo3t no mon say.Bot Arthure wolde not ete til al were serued,He watz so joly of his joyfnes, and sumquat childgered:His lif liked hym ly3t, he louied þe lasseAuþer to longe lye or to longe sitte,So bisied him his 3onge blod and his brayn wylde.And also an oþer maner meued him ekeÞat he þur3 nobelay had nomen, he wolde neuer eteVpon such a dere day er hym deuised wereOf sum auenturus þyng an vncouþe tale,Of sum mayn meruayle, þat he my3t trawe,Of alderes, of armes, of oþer auenturus,Oþer sum segg hym biso3t of sum siker kny3tTo joyne wyth hym in iustyng, in jopardé to lay,Lede, lif for lyf, leue vchon oþer,
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As fortune wolde fulsun hom, þe fayrer to haue.Þis watz þe kynges countenaunce where he in court were,At vch farand fest among his fre meny

“folio” n=”92v”
in halle. Þerfore of face so fere He sti3tlez stif in stalle, Ful 3ep in þat Nw 3ere Much mirthe he mas withalle.Thus þer stondes in stale þe stif kyng hisseluen,Talkkande bifore þe hy3e table of trifles ful hende.There gode Gawan watz grayþed Gwenore bisyde,And Agrauayn a la dure mayn on þat oþer syde sittes,Boþe þe kynges sistersunes and ful siker kni3tes;Bischop Bawdewyn abof biginez þe table,And Ywan, Vryn son, ette with hymseluen.Þise were di3t on þe des and derworþly serued,And siþen mony siker segge at þe sidbordez.Þen þe first cors come with crakkyng of trumpes,Wyth mony baner ful bry3t þat þerbi henged;Nwe nakryn noyse with þe noble pipes,Wylde werbles and wy3t wakned lote,Þat mony hert ful hi3e hef at her towches.Dayntés dryuen þerwyth of ful dere metes,Foysoun of þe fresche, and on so fele dischesÞat pine to fynde þe place þe peple biforneFor to sette þe sylueren þat sere sewes halden on clothe. Iche lede as he loued hymselue Þer laght withouten loþe; Ay two had disches twelue, Good ber and bry3t wyn boþe.Now wyl I of hor seruise say yow no more,For vch wy3e may wel wit no wont þat þer were.An oþer noyse ful newe ne3ed biliue,Þat þe lude my3t haf leue liflode to cach;

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