XVI.
"Wolde ȝe, worþilych lorde," quod Gawan to þe kyng,
"Bid me boȝe fro þis benche, & stonde by yow þere,
Þat I wyth-oute vylanye myȝt voyde þis table,
& þat my legge lady lyked not ille,
I wolde com to your counseyl, bifore your cort ryche.
For me þink hit not semly, as hit is soþ knawen,
Þer such an askyng is heuened so hyȝe in your sale,
Þaȝȝe ȝour-self be talenttyf to take hit to your-seluen,
Whil mony so bolde yow aboute vpon bench sytten,
Þat vnder heuen, I hope, non haȝer er of wylle,
Ne better bodyes on bent, þer baret is rered;
I am þe wakkest, I wot, and of wyt feblest,
& lest lur of my lyf, quo laytes þe soþe,
Bot for as much as ȝe ar myn em, I am only to prayse,
No bounté bot your blod I in my bodé knowe;
& syþen þis note is so nys, þat noȝt hit yow falles,
& I haue frayned hit at yow fyrst, foldeȝ hit to me,
& if I carp not comlyly, let alle þis cort rych,
bout blame."
Ryche to-geder con roun,
& syþen þay redden alle same,
To ryd þe kyng wyth croun,
& gif Gawan þe game.