XVI.
"It is a great pleasure to me," says Sir Gawayne, "to hear you talk,
"In goud fayþe," quod Gawayn, "God yow forȝelde,
Gret is þe gode gle, & gomen to me huge,
Þat so worþy as ȝe wolde wynne hidere,
& pyne yow with so pouer a mon, as play wyth your knyȝt,
With any skynneȝ countenaunce, hit keuereȝ me ese;
Bot to take þe toruayle1 to my-self, to trwluf expoun,
& towche þe temeȝ of tyxt, & taleȝ of armeȝ,
To yow þat, I wot wel, weldeȝ more slyȝt
Of þat art, bi þe half, or a hundreth of seche
As I am, oþer euer schal, in erde þer I leue,
Hit were a fole fele-folde, my fre, by my trawþe.
I wolde yowre wylnyng worche at my myȝt,
As I am hyȝly bihalden, & euer-more wylle
Be seruaunt to your-seluen, so saue me dryȝtyn!"
Þus hym frayned þat fre, & fondet hym ofte,
Forto haf wonnen hym to woȝe, what-so scho þoȝt elleȝ,
Bot he de fended hym so fayr, þat no faut semed,
Ne non euel on nawþer halue, nawþer þay wysten,
bot blysse;
Þay laȝed & layked longe,
At þe last scho con hym kysse,
Hir leue fayre con scho fonge,
& went hir waye Iwysse.
1 tornayle (?).