"God preserve thee!" says the Green Knight,
"Gawayn," quod þat grene gome, "God þe mot loke!
I-wysse þou art welcom,1 wyȝe, to my place,
& þou hatȝ tymed þi trauayl as true2 mon schulde;
& þou knoweȝ þe couenaunteȝ kest vus by-twene,
At þis tyme twelmonyth þou toke þat þe falled,
& I schulde at þis nwe ȝere ȝeply þe quyte.
& we ar in þis valay, verayly oure one,
Here ar no renkes vs to rydde, rele as vus likeȝ;
Haf þy3 helme of þy hede, & haf here þy pay;