VII.
"Mary!" quoth the other, "since it pleases thee to lose thy life, 2140
"Mary!" quod þat oþer mon, "now þou so much spelle3,
Þat þou wylt þyn awen nye nyme to þy-seluen,
& þe lyst lese þy lyf, þe lette I ne kepe;
Haf here þi helme on þy hede, þi spere in þi honde,
& ryde me doun þis ilk rake, bi 3on rokke syde,
Til þou be bro3t to þe boþem of þe brem valay;
Þenne loke a littel on þe launde, on þi lyfte honde,
& þou schal se in þat slade þe self chapel,
& þe borelych burne on bent, þat hit kepe3.
Now fare3 wel on Gode3 half, Gawayn þe noble,
For alle þe golde vpon grounde I nolde go with þe,
Ne bere þe fela3schip þur3 þis fryth on fote fyrre."
Bi þat þe wy3e in þe wod wende3 his brydel,
Hit þe hors with þe hele3, as harde as he my3t,
Lepe3 hym ouer þe launde, & leue3 þe kny3t þere,
al one.
"Bi Godde3 self," quod Gawayn,
"I wyl nauþer grete ne grone,
To Godde3 wylle I am ful bayn,
& to hym I haf me tone."