XXIII.
Then was Gawayne glad,
Þenne wat3 Gawan ful glad, & gomenly he la3ed,—
"Now I þonk yow þryuandely þur3 alle oþer þynge,
Now acheued is my chaunce, I schal at your wylle
Dowelle, & elle3 do quat 3e demen."
Þenne sesed hym þe syre, & set hym bysyde,
Let þe ladie3 be fette, to lyke hem þe better;
Þer wat3 seme solace by hem-self stille;
Þe lorde let for luf lote3 so myry,
As wy3 þat wolde of his wyte, ne wyst quat he my3t.
Þenne he carped to þe kny3t, criande loude,
"3e han demed to do þe dede þat I bidde;
Wyl 3e halde þis hes here at þys one3?"
"3e sir, for-soþe," sayd þe segge trwe,
"Whyl I byde in yowre bor3e, be bayn to 3ow[r]e hest."
"For 3e haf trauayled," quod þe tulk, "towen fro ferre,
& syþen waked me wyth, 3e arn not wel waryst,
Nauþer of sostnaunce ne of slepe, soþly I knowe;
3e schal lenge in your lofte, & ly3e in your ese,
To morn quyle þe messe-quyle, & to mete wende,
When 3e wyl, wyth my wyf, þat wyth yow schal sitte,
& comfort yow with compayny, til I to cort torne,
3e lende;
& I schal erly ryse,
On huntyng wyl I wende."
Gauayn grante3 alle þyse,
Hym heldande, as þe hende.