XVI.
For my weed (woven by my wife) thou wearest.
For hit is my wede þat þou wereȝ, þat ilke wouen girdel,
Myn owen wyf hit þe weued, I wot wel forsoþe;
Now know I wel þy cosses, & þy costes als,
& þe wowyng of my wyf, I wroȝt hit myseluen;
I sende hir to asay þe, & sothly me þynkkeȝ,
On þe fautlest freke, þat euer on fote ȝede;
As perle bi þe quite pese is of prys more,
So is Gawayn, in god fayth, bi oþer gay knyȝteȝ.
Bot here you lakked a lyttel, sir, & lewte yow wonted,
Bot þat watȝ for no wylyde werke, ne wowyng nauþer,
Bot for ȝe lufed your lyf, þe lasse I yow blame."
Þat oþer stif mon in study stod a gret whyle;
So agreued for greme he gryed with-inne,
Alle þe blode of his brest blende in his face,
Þat al he schrank for schome, þat þe schalk talked.
Þe forme worde vpon folde, þat þe freke meled,—
"Corsed worth cowarddyse & couetyse boþe!
In yow is vylany & vyse, þat vertue disstryeȝ."
Þenne he kaȝt to þe knot, & þe kest lawseȝ,
Brayde broþely þe belt to þe burne seluen:
"Lo! þer þe falssyng, foule mot hit falle!
For care of þy knokke cowardyse me taȝt
To a-corde me with couetyse, my kynde to for-sake,
Þat is larges & lewte, þat longeȝ to knyȝteȝ.
Now am I fawty, & falce, & ferde haf ben euer;
Of trecherye & vn-trawþe boþe bityde sorȝe
& care!
I bi-knowe yow, knyȝt, here stylle,
Al fawty is my fare,
Leteȝ me ouer-take your wylle,
& efle I schal be ware."