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.""Nay, hende of hy3e honours,"Quoth that lufsum vnder lyne,"Tha3 I hade noyght of youre3,Yghet schulde 3e haue of myne."Ho ra3t hym a riche rynk of red golde werke3,Wyth a starande ston stondande alofteThat bere blusschande beme3 as the bry3t sunne;Wyt 3e wel, hit wat3 worth wele ful hoge.Bot the renk hit renayed, and redyly he sayde,"I wil no gifte3, for Gode, my gay, at this tyme;I haf none yow to norne, ne no3t wyl I take."Ho bede hit hym ful bysily, and he hir bode wernes,And swere swyfte by his sothe that he hit sese nolde,And ho sore that he forsoke, and sayde therafter,"If 3e renay my rynk, to ryche for hit seme3,Yghe wolde not so hy3ly halden be to me,I schal gif yow my girdel, that gaynes yow lasse."Ho la3t a lace lyyghtly that leke vmbe hir syde3,Knit vpon hir kyrtel vnder the clere mantyle,Gered hit wat3 with grene sylke and with golde schaped,No3t bot arounde brayden, beten with fyngre3;And that ho bede to the burne, and blythely biso3t,Tha3 hit vnworthi were, that he hit take wolde.And he nay that he nolde neghe in no wyseNauther golde ne garysoun, er God hym grace sendeTo acheue to the chaunce that he hade chosen there."And therfore, I pray yow, displese yow no3t,And lette3 be your bisinesse, for I baythe hit yow neuerto graunte;I am derely to yow biholdeBicause of your sembelaunt,And euer in hot and coldeTo be your trwe seruaunt.""Now forsake 3e this silke," sayde the burde thenne,"For hit is symple in hitself? And so hit wel seme3.Lo! so hit is littel, and lasse hit is worthy;Bot who-so knew the costes that knit ar therinne,He wolde hit prayse at more prys, parauenture;For quat gome so is gorde with this grene lace,While he hit hade hemely halched aboute,Ther is no hathel vnder heuen tohewe hym that my3t,For he my3t not be slayn for slyyght vpon erthe."Then kest the kny3t, and hit come to his hertHit were a juel for the joparde that hym iugged were:When he acheued to the chapel his chek for to fech,My3t he haf slypped to be vnslayn, the sleyght were noble.Thenne he thulged with hir threpe and tholed hir to speke,And ho bere on hym the belt and bede hit hym swythe--And he granted and hym gafe with a goud wylle--And biso3t hym, for hir sake, disceuer hit neuer,Bot to lelly layne fro hir lorde; the leude hym acorde3That neuer wy3e schulde hit wyt, iwysse, bot thay twaynefor no3te;He thonkked hir oft ful swythe,Ful thro with hert and tho3t.Bi that on thrynne sytheHo hat3 kyst the kny3t so toyght.Thenne lachche3 ho hir leue, and leuez hym there,For more myrthe of that mon mo3t ho not gete.When ho wat3 gon, Sir Gawayn gerez hym sone,Rises and riches hym in araye noble,Lays vp the luf-lace the lady hym ra3t,Hid hit ful holdely, ther he hit eft fonde.Sythen cheuely to the chapel choses he the waye,Preuely aproched to a prest, and prayed hym thereThat he wolde lyste his lyf and lern hym betterHow his sawle schulde be saued when he schuld seye hethen.There he schrof hym schyrly and schewed his mysdede3,Of the more and the mynne, and merci beseche3,And of absolucioun he on the segge calles;And he asoyled hym surely and sette hym so cleneAs dome3day schulde haf ben di3t on the morn.And sythen he mace hym as mery among the fre ladyes,With comlych caroles and alle kynnes ioye,As neuer he did bot that daye, to the derk ny3t,with blys.Vche mon hade daynte thareOf hym, and sayde, "Iwysse,Thus myry he wat3 neuer are,Syn he com hider, er this."Now hym lenge in that lee, ther luf hym bityde!Yghet is the lorde on the launde ledande his gomnes.He hat3 forfaren this fox that he fol3ed longe;As he sprent ouer a spenne to spye the schrewe,Ther as he herd the howndes that hasted hym swythe,Renaud com richchande thur3 a royghe greue,And alle the rabel in a res ry3t at his hele3.The wy3e wat3 war of the wylde, and warly abides,And brayde3 out the bry3t bronde, and at the best castez.And he schunt for the scharp, and schulde haf arered;A rach rapes hym to, ry3t er he myyght,And ry3t bifore the hors fete thay fel on hym alle,And woried me this wyly wyth a wroth noyse.The lorde ly3te3 bilyue, and lachez hym sone,Rased hym ful radly out of the rach mouthes,Halde3 he3e ouer his hede, halowez faste,And ther bayen hym mony brath hounde3.Huntes hy3ed hem theder with horne3 ful mony,Ay rechatande ary3t til thay the renk seyghen.Bi that wat3 comen his compeyny noble,Alle that euer ber bugle blowed at ones,And alle thise other halowed that hade no hornes;Hit wat3 the myriest mute that euer men herde,The rich rurd that ther wat3 raysed for Renaude saulewith lote.Hor hounde3 thay ther rewarde,Her hede3 thay fawne and frote,And sythen thay tan Reynarde,And tyruen of his cote.And thenne thay helden to home, for hit wat3 nie3 nyyght,Strakande ful stoutly in hor store horne3.The lorde is ly3t at the laste at hys lef home,Fynde3 fire vpon flet, the freke ther-byside,Sir Gawayn the gode, that glad wat3 withalle,Among the ladies for luf he ladde much ioye;He were a bleaunt of blwe that bradde to the erthe,His surkot semed hym wel that softe wat3 forred,And his hode of that ilke henged on his schulder,Blande al of blaunner were bothe al aboute.He mete3 me this godmon inmyddez the flore,And al with gomen he hym gret, and goudly he sayde,"I schal fylle vpon fyrst oure forwarde3 nouthe,That we spedly han spoken, ther spared wat3 no drynk."Then acoles he the kny3t and kysses hym thryes,As sauerly and sadly as he hem sette couthe."Bi Kryst," quoth that other kny3t, "Yghe cach much seleIn cheuisaunce of this chaffer, 3if yghe hade goud chepe3.""Yghe, of the chepe no charg," quoth chefly that other,"As is pertly payed the chepe3 that I a3te.""Mary," quoth that other mon, "myn is bihynde,For I haf hunted al this day, and no3t haf I getenBot this foule fox felle--the fende haf the gode3!--And that is ful pore for to pay for suche prys thingesAs 3e haf thryyght me here thro, suche thre cossesso gode.""Ino3," quoth Sir Gawayn,"I thonk yow, bi the rode,"And how the fox wat3 slaynHe tolde hym as thay stode.With merthe and mynstralsye, with mete3 at hor wylle,Thay maden as mery as any men mo3ten--With la3yne of ladies, with lote3 of bordesGawayn and the godemon so glad were thay bothe--Bot if the douthe had doted, other dronken ben other.Bothe the mon and the meyny maden mony iape3,Til the sesoun wat3 se3en that thay seuer moste;Burne3 to hor bedde behoued at the laste.Thenne lo3ly his leue at the lorde fyrstFochche3 this fre mon, and fayre he hym thonkkez:"Of such a selly soiorne as I haf hade here,Your honour at this hy3e fest, the hyyghe kyng yow yghelde!I 3ef yow me for on of youre3, if yowreself lykez,For I mot nedes, as 3e wot, meue to-morne,And 3e me take sum tolke to teche, as yghe hyyght,The gate to the grene chapel, as God wyl me sufferTo dele on Nw Yghere3 day the dome of my wyrdes.""In god faythe," quoth the godmon, "wyth a goud wylleAl that euer I yow hy3t halde schal I rede."Ther asyngnes he a seruaunt to sett hym in the waye,And coundue hym by the downe3, that he no drechch had,For to ferk thur3 the fryth and fare at the gaynestbi greue.The lorde Gawayn con thonk,Such worchip he wolde hym weue.Then at tho ladye3 wlonkThe kny3t hat3 tan his leue.With care and wyth kyssyng he carppe3 hem tille,And fele thryuande thonkke3 he thrat hom to haue,And thay 3elden hym ayghayn ygheply that ilk;Thay bikende hym to Kryst with ful colde sykynge3
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