XVI.
"It is a great pleasure to me," says Sir Gawayne, "to hear you talk,
"In goud fayþe," quod Gawayn, "God yow for3elde,
Gret is þe gode gle, & gomen to me huge,
Þat so worþy as 3e wolde wynne hidere,
& pyne yow with so pouer a mon, as play wyth your kny3t,
With any skynne3 countenaunce, hit keuere3 me ese;
Bot to take þe toruayle1 to my-self, to trwluf expoun,
& towche þe teme3 of tyxt, & tale3 of arme3,
To yow þat, I wot wel, welde3 more sly3t
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 my3t,
As I am hy3ly bihalden, & euer-more wylle
Be seruaunt to your-seluen, so saue me dry3tyn!"
Þus hym frayned þat fre, & fondet hym ofte,
Forto haf wonnen hym to wo3e, what-so scho þo3t elle3,
Bot he de fended hym so fayr, þat no faut semed,
Ne non euel on nawþer halue, nawþer þay wysten,
bot blysse;
Þay la3ed & layked longe,
At þe last scho con hym kysse,
Hir leue fayre con scho fonge,
& went hir waye Iwysse.
1 tornayle (?).