XIV.
Fear kept all silent.
If he hem stowned vpon fyrst, stiller were þanne
Alle þe hered-men in halle, þe hy3 & þe lo3e;
Þe renk on his rounce hym ruched in his sadel,
& runisch-ly his rede y3en he reled aboute,
Bende his bresed bro3e3, bly-cande grene,
Wayued his berde for to wayte quo-so wolde ryse.
When non wolde kepe hym with carp he co3ed ful hy3e,
Ande rimed hym ful richley, & ry3t hym to speke:
"What, is þis Arþures hous," quod þe haþel þenne,
"Þat al þe rous rennes of, þur3 ryalmes so mony?
Where is now your sourquydrye & your conquestes,
Your gry[n]del-layk, & your greme, & your grete wordes?
Now is þe reuel & þe renoun of þe rounde table
Ouer-walt wyth a worde of on wy3es speche;
For al dares for drede, with-oute dynt schewed!"
Wyth þis he la3es so loude, þat þe lorde greued;
Þe blod schot for scham in-to his schyre face
& lere;
He wex as wroth as wynde,
So did alle þat þer were
Þe kyng as kene bi kynde,
Þen stod þat stif mon nere.