XXIII.
Then was Gawayne glad,
Þenne watȝ Gawan ful glad, & gomenly he laȝed,—
"Now I þonk yow þryuandely þurȝ alle oþer þynge,
Now acheued is my chaunce, I schal at your wylle
Dowelle, & elleȝ do quat ȝe demen."
Þenne sesed hym þe syre, & set hym bysyde,
Let þe ladieȝ be fette, to lyke hem þe better;
Þer watȝ seme solace by hem-self stille;
Þe lorde let for luf loteȝ so myry,
As wyȝ þat wolde of his wyte, ne wyst quat he myȝt.
Þenne he carped to þe knyȝt, criande loude,
"Ȝe han demed to do þe dede þat I bidde;
Wyl ȝe halde þis hes here at þys oneȝ?"
"Ȝe sir, for-soþe," sayd þe segge trwe,
"Whyl I byde in yowre borȝe, be bayn to ȝow[r]e hest."
"For ȝe haf trauayled," quod þe tulk, "towen fro ferre,
& syþen waked me wyth, ȝe arn not wel waryst,
Nauþer of sostnaunce ne of slepe, soþly I knowe;
Ȝe schal lenge in your lofte, & lyȝe in your ese,
To morn quyle þe messe-quyle, & to mete wende,
When ȝe wyl, wyth my wyf, þat wyth yow schal sitte,
& comfort yow with compayny, til I to cort torne,
ȝe lende;
& I schal erly ryse,
On huntyng wyl I wende."
Gauayn granteȝ alle þyse,
Hym heldande, as þe hende.