XII.
Then the man in green seizes his grim tool.
Then þe gome in þe grene grayþed hym swyþe,
Gedereȝ yp hys grymme tole, Gawayn to smyte;
With alle þe bur in his body he ber hit on lofte,
Munt as maȝtyly, as marre hym he wolde;
Hade hit dryuen adoun, as dreȝ as he atled,
Þer hade ben ded of his dynt, þat doȝty watȝ euer.
Bot Gawayn on þat giserne glyfte hym bysyde,
As hit com glydande adoun, on glode hym to schende,
& schranke a lytel with þe schulderes, for þe scharp yrne.
Þat oþer schalk wyth a schunt þe schene wythhaldeȝ,
& þenne repreued he þe prynce with mony prowde wordeȝ:
"Þou art not Gawayn," quod þe gome, "þat is so goud halden,
Þat neuer arȝed for no here, by hylle ne be vale,
& now þou fles for ferde, er þou fele harmeȝ;
Such cowardise of þat knyȝt cowþe I neuer here.
Nawþer fyked I, ne flaȝe, freke, quen þou myntest,
Ne kest no kauelacion, in kyngeȝ hous Arthor,
My hede flaȝ to my fote, & ȝet flaȝ I neuer;
& þou, er any harme hent, arȝeȝ in hert,
Wherfore þe better burne me burde be called
þer-fore."
Quod G:, "I schunt oneȝ,
& so wyl I no more,
Bot paȝ my hede falle on þe stoneȝ,
I con not hit restore.