University of Virginia Library

Lithe and listenithe the lif of a lord riche,
The while that he livid was none him liche,
Nether in boure ne in halle;
In the time of Arthoure this adventure betid,
And of the great adventure that he himself did,
That king curteis and royalle.
Of alle kinges Arture berithe the flowir,
And of alle knightod he bare away the honour,
Where-so-evere he went.
In his contrey was nothing but chivalry
And knightes were belovid by that doughty,
For cowardes were everemore shent.
Nowe wille ye list a while to my talking,
I shalle you telle of Arthoure the king,
Howe ones him befelle.
On hunting he was in Ingleswood,
With alle his bold knightes good;
Nowe herken to my spelle!
The king was set at his trestille-tree
Withe his bowe to sle the wilde veneré
And his lordes were set him beside;
As the king stode, then was he ware
Where a great hart was and a faire,
And forthe fast did he glide.
The hart was in a braken ferne,
And hard the groundes, and stode fulle derne.
Alle that sawe the king.
“Hold you stille, every man,
And I wolle go myself, if I can
With crafte of stalking.”
The king in his hand toke a bowe
And wodmanly he stoupid lowe
To stalk unto that dere.
When that he cam the dere fulle nere,
The dere lept forthe into a brere,
And evere the king went nere and nere.
So King Arthure went a while,
After the dere, I trowe, half a mile,
And no man withe him went.
And at the last to the dere he let flye
And smote him sore and sewerly;
Such grace God him sent.
Doun the dere tumblid so deron,
And felle into a great brake of feron;
The king followid fulle faste.
Anon the king bothe ferce and felle
Was withe the dere and did him serve welle.
And after the grasse he taste.
As the king was withe the dere alone,
Streighte ther cam to him a quaint grome,
Armid welle and sure,
A knighte fulle strong and of great mighte
And grimly wordes to the king he said,
“Welle y-met, King Arthour!
Thou hast me done wrong many a yere
And wofully I shalle quitte thee here.
I hold thy life days nighe done;
Thou hast gevin my landes in certain
With great wrong unto Sir Gawen.
Whate sayest thou, king alone?”
“Sir Knight, whate is thy name withe honour?”
“Sir King,” he said, “Gromer Somer Joure,
I telle thee nowe withe righte.”
“A, Sir Gromer Somer bethink thee welle,
To slee me here honour getist thou no delle,
Bethink thee thou art a knight;
If thou slee me nowe in this case,
Alle knightes wolle refuse thee in every place,
That shame shalle nevere thee fro;
Let be thy wille and followe wit
And that is amiss I shalle amend it,
And thou wolt, or that I go.”
“Nay,” said Sir Gromer Somer, “by hevin king!
So shalt thou not skape withoute lesing,
I have thee nowe at availle.
If I shold let thee thus go withe mockery,
Anoder time thou wolt me defye;
Of that I shalle not faille.”
Now said the king, “So God me save,
Save my life, and whate thou wolt crave,
I shalle now graunt it thee;
Shame thou shalt have to slee me in veneré,
Thou armid and I clothid but in grene, perdé.”
“Alle this shalle not help thee, sekirly,
For I wolle nother lond ne gold truly;
But if thou graunt me at a certain day
Such as I shalle set, and in this same arraye.”
“Yes,” said the King, “lo, here my hand.”
“Ye, but abide, King, and here me a stound;
First thou shalt swere upon my sword broun
To shewe me at thy coming whate wemen love best in feld and town;
And thou shalt mete me here witheouten send
Evin at this day twelve monethes end;
And thou shalt swere upon my swerd good
That of thy knightes shalle none com with thee, by the rood,
Nouther frende ne freind.
And if thou bring not answere witheoute faille,
Thine hed thou shalt lose for thy travaille—
This shalle nowe be thine othe.
What sayst thou, King? Let see, have done!”
“Sir, I graunt to this, now let me gone;
Thoughe it be to me fulle lothe,
I ensure thee, as I am true king,
To com again at this twelve monethes end
And bring thee thine answere.”
“Now go thy way, King Arthure;
Thy life is in my hand, I am fulle sure;
Of thy sorrowe thou art not ware.
Abide, King Arthure, a litelle while;
Loke not today thou me begile,
And kepe alle thing in close;
For and I wist, by Mary milde,
Thou woldist betray me in the feld,
Thy lif first sholdist thou lose.”
“Nay,” said King Arthure, “that may not be;
Untrewe knighte shalt thou nevere finde me;
To dye yet were me lever.
Farwelle, Sir Knighte, and eville met,
I wolle com, and I be on live at the day set,
Thoughe I shold scape nevere.”
The king his bugle gan blowe;
That hard every knighte and it gan knowe;
Unto him can they rake;
Ther they fond the king and the dere,
Withe sembland sad and hevy chere,
That had no lust to laik.
“Go we home nowe to Carlylle;
This hunting likis me not welle,”
So said King Arthure.
Alle the lordes knewe by his countenaunce
That the king had met withe sume disturbaunce.
Unto Carlylle then the king cam,
But of his hevinesse knewe no man;
His hart was wonder hevy.
In this hevinesse he did abide
That many of his knightes mervelid that tide,
Tille at the last Sir Gawen
To the king he said than,
“Sir, me marvailithe righte sore,
Whate thing that thou sorrowist fore.”
Then answerid the king as tighte,
“I shalle thee telle, gentille Gawen knighte.
In the forest as I was this daye,
Ther I met withe a knighte in his arraye
And sertain wordes to me he gan sain
And chargid me I shold him not bewraine;
His councelle must I kepe therfore,
Or els I am forswore.”
“Nay, drede you not, lord, by Mary flower,
I am not that man that wold you dishonour
Nother by evin ne by moron.”
“Forsothe I was on hunting in Ingleswood;
Thowe knowest welle I slewe an hart, by the rode,
Alle myself alon;
Ther met I withe a knighte armid sure;
His name he told me was Sir Gromer Somer Joure:
Therfor I make my mone.
Ther that knighte fast did me threte
And wold have slain me withe great heat,
But I spak faire again.
Wepins withe me ther had I none;
Alas, my worship therfor is nowe gone.”
“What thereof?” said Gawen,
“What nedis more I shalle not lye;
He wold have slain me ther witheoute mercy—
And that me was fulle lothe.
He made me to swere that at the twelve monethes end
That I shold mete him ther in the same kinde;
To that I plighte my trouithe.
And also I shold telle him at the same day
Whate wemen desiren moste in good faye;
My life els shold I lese.
This othe I made unto that knighte,
And that I shold nevere telle it to no wighte;
Of this I mighte not chese.
And also I shold com in none oder arraye,
But evin as I was the same daye;
And if I failid of mine answere,
I wot I shall be slain righte there.
Blame me not thoughe I be a wofulle man;
Alle this is my drede and fere.”
“Ye, Sir, make good chere;
Let make your hors redy
To ride into straunge contrey;
And evere wheras ye mete outher man or woman, in faye,
Ask of theim whate they therto saye.
And I shalle also ride anoder waye
And enquere of every man and woman and get what I may
Of every man and womans answere;
And in a boke I shalle theim write.”
“I graunt,” said the King as tite,
“It is welle advised, Gawen the good,
Evin by the holy rood.”
Sone were they bothe redy,
Gawen and the king witterly.
The king rode on way and Gawen anoder
And evere enquired of man, woman, and other,
Whate wemen desired moste dere.
Somme said they lovid to be welle arrayd,
Somme said they lovid to be faire prayed;
Somme said they lovid a lusty man
That in their armis can clipp them and kisse them than;
Somme said one; somme said other;
And so had Gawen getin many an answere.
By that Gawen had geten whate he maye
And come again by a certain daye.
Sir Gawen had goten answeris so many
That had made a boke great witterly.
To the courte he cam again.
By that was the king comin withe his boke
And either on others pamplett did loke.
“This may not faile,” said Gawen.
“By God,” said the King, “I drede me sore,
I cast me to seke a litelle more
In Ingleswood Forest;
I have but a monethe to my day set,
I may happen on somme good tidinges to hit—
This thinkithe me nowe best.”
“Do as ye list,” then Gawen said,
“Whatesoevere ye do I hold me paid;
Hit is good to be spyrring;
Doute you not, lord, ye shalle welle spede;
Sume of your sawes shalle help at nede,
Els it were ille liking.”
King Arthoure rode forthe on the other day,
Into Ingleswood as his gate laye
And ther he met withe a lady.
She was as ungoodly a creature
As evere man sawe witheoute mesure.
King Arthure mervailid securly.
Her face was red, her nose snotid withalle,
Her mouithe wide, her teethe yallowe overe alle,
Withe blerid eyen gretter then a balle;
Her mouithe was not to lak;
Her teethe hing overe her lippes;
Her cheekis side as wemens hippes;
A lute she bare upon her back.
Her neck long and therto great;
Her here cloterid on an hepe;
In the sholders she was a yard brode;
Hanging pappis to be an hors lode;
And like a barelle she was made;
And to reherse the foulnesse of that lady,
Ther is no tung may telle, securly;
Of lothinesse y-noughe she had.
She sat on a palfray was gay begon,
With gold beset and many a precious stone.
Ther was an unsemely sighte;
So foulle a creature witheoute mesure
To ride so gayly, I you ensure,
It was no reason ne righte.
She rode to Arthoure and thus she said,
“God spede, Sir King, I am welle paid
That I have withe thee met;
Speke withe me, I rede, or thou go,
For thy life is in my hand, I warn thee so;
That shalt thou finde, and I it not let.”
“Why, what wold ye, lady, nowe withe me?”
“Sir, I wold fain nowe speke withe thee
And telle thee tidinges good.
For alle the answeris that thou canst yelpe,
None of theim alle shalle thee helpe
That shalt thou knowe by the rood.
Thou wenist I knowe not thy councelle;
But I warn thee I knowe it every dealle.
If I help thee not, thou art but dead.
Graunt me, Sir King, but one thing,
And for thy life, I make warraunting,
Or elles thou shalt lose thy hed.”
“Whate mean you, lady, telle me tighte,
For of thy wordes I have great dispite;
To you I have no nede.
What is your desire, faire lady?
Let me wete shortly
Whate is your meaning
And why my life is in your hand;
Telle me and I shalle you warraunt
Alle your own asking.”
“Forsothe,” said the lady, “I am no qued.
Thou must graunt me a knighte to wed—
His name is Sir Gawen.
And suche covenaunt I wolle make thee,
But thorowe mine answere thy lif savid be,
Elles let my desire be in vaine.
And if mine answere save thy lif,
Graunt me to be Gawens wif.
Advise thee nowe, Sir King.
For it must be so, or thou art but ded;
Chose nowe, for thou maiste sone lose thine hed.
Telle me nowe in hying.”
“Mary,” said the king, “I maye not graunt thee
To make warraunt Sir Gawen to wed thee;
Alle lyethe in him alon.
But and it be so, I wolle do my labour
In saving of my life to make it secour;
To Gawen wolle I make my mone.”
“Welle,” said she, “nowe go home again
And faire wordes speke to Sir Gawen,
For thy lif I may save.
Thoughe I be foulle, yet am I gaye;
Thourghe me thy life save he maye
Or sewer thy dethe to have.”
“Alas!” he said, “nowe wo is me
That I shold cause Gawen to wed thee,
For he woll be lothe to saye naye.
So foulle a lady as ye ar nowe one
Sawe I nevere in my life on ground gone,
I not whate I do may.”
“No force, Sir King, thoughe I be foulle;
Choise for a make hathe an owlle.
Thou getest of me no more.
When thou comist again to thine answere,
Righte in this place I shalle mete thee here
Or elles I wot thou art lore.”
“Now farewelle,” said the King, “Lady.”
“Ye Sir,” she said, “ther is a bird men calle an owle . . .
And yet a lady I am.”
“Whate is your name, I pray you telle me?”
“Sir King, I highte Dame Ragnelle, truly,
That nevere yet begilid man.”
“Dame Ragnelle, now have good daye.”
“Sir King, God spede thee on thy way!
Righte here I shalle thee mete.”
Thus they departid faire and welle
The king fulle sone com to Carlylle,
And his hart hevy and great.
The first man he met was Sir Gawen,
That unto the king thus gan sain,
“Sir, howe have ye sped?”
“Forsothe,” said the King, “nevere so ille!
Alas, I am in point myself to spille,
For nedely I most be ded.”
“Nay,” said Gawen, “that may not be!
I had lever myself be dead, so mot I thee.
This is ille tidand.”
“Gawen, I met today withe the foulist lady
That evere I sawe sertenly.
She said to me my life she wold save . . .
But first she wold thee to husbond have.
Wherfor I am wo begon—
Thus in my hart I make my mone.”
“Is this alle?” then said Gawen;
“I shalle wed her and wed her again,
Thoughe she were a fend,
Thoughe she were as foulle as Belsabub,
Her shalle I wed, by the rood,
Or elles were not I your frende;
For ye ar my king withe honour
And have worshipt me in many a stoure.
Therfor shalle I not let.
To save your life, lorde, it were my parte,
Or were I false and a great coward;
And my worship is the bet.”
“Y-wis, Gawen, I met her in Ingliswood.
She told me her name, by the rode,
That it was Dame Ragnelle.
She told me but I had of her answere,
Elles alle my laboure is nevere the nere;
Thus she gan me telle.
And but if her answere help me welle,
Elles let her have her desire no dele:
This was her covenaunt;
And if her answere help me, and none other,
Then wold she have you, here is alle togeder,
That made she warraunt.”
“As for this,” said Gawen, “it shalle not let:
I wolle wed her at whate time ye wolle set;
I pray you make no care.
For and she were the most foulist wighte
That evere men mighte see withe sighte,
For your love I wolle not spare.”
“Gramercy, Gawen,” then said King Arthor;
“Of alle knightes thou berest the flowre
That evere yet I fond.
My worship and my lif thou savist forevere;
Therfore my love shalle not frome thee dissevir,
As I am king in lond.”
Then within five or six days
The King must nedis go his ways
To bere his answere.
The King and Sir Gawen rode oute of toun . . .
No man withe them, but they alone,
Neder ferre ne nere.
When the King was withein the forest:
“Sir Gawen, farewelle, I must go west,
Thou shalt no furder go.”
“My lord, God spede you on your jorney,
I wold I shold nowe ride your way,
For to departe I am right wo.”
The king had ridden but a while,
Litelle more then the space of a mile
Or he met Dame Ragnelle.
“A, Sir King, ye are nowe welcum here,
I wot ye ride to bere your answere;
That wolle availle you no dele.”
“Nowe,” said the King, “sithe it wolle none other be,
Telle me your answere nowe, and my life save me;
Gawen shalle you wed.
So he hathe promised me my lif to save
And your desire nowe shalle ye have,
Bothe in bowre and in bed.
Therfor telle me nowe alle in hast.
Whate wolle help now at last;
Have done, I may not tarry.”
“Sir,” quod Dame Ragnelle, “nowe shalt thou knowe
Whate wemen desiren moste of highe and lowe;
From this I wolle not varaye.
Summe men sayn we desire to be faire;
Also we desire to have repaire
Of diverse straunge men;
Also we love to have lust in bed
And often we desire to wed,
Thus ye men not ken.
Yet we desire anoder manner thing,
To be holden not old, but freshe and yong,
Withe flattring and glosing and quaint gin,
So ye men may us wemen evere win
Of whate ye wolle crave.
Ye go fulle nise, I wolle not lye;
But there is one thing is alle oure fantasye,
And that nowe shalle ye knowe.
We desiren of men above alle manner thing
To have the sovereinté, withoute lesing,
Of alle, bothe highe and lowe.
For where we have sovereinté alle is ouris,
Thoughe a knighte be nevere so feris,
And evere the mastry winne;
Of the moste manliest is oure desire:
To have the sovereinté of suche a sire;
Suche is oure crafte and ginne.
Therfore wend, Sir King, on thy way,
And telle that knighte, as I thee saye,
That it is as we desiren moste;
He woll be wrothe and unsoughte
And curse her fast that it thee taughte,
For his laboure is lost.
Go forthe, Sir King, and hold promise,
For thy life is sure nowe in alle wise;
That dare I well undertake.”
The king rode forthe a great shake,
As fast as he mighte gate
Thorowe mire, more, and fenne
Wheras the place was signid and set then.
Evin there withe Sir Gromer he met.
And stern wordes to the King he spak withe that,
“Com of, Sir King, nowe let see
Of thine answere whate it shall be,
For I am redy grathid.”
The King pullid oute bokes twaine;
“Sir, ther is mine answer, I dare sayn,
For somme wolle help at nede.”
Sir Gromer lookid on theim everychon;
“Nay, nay, Sir King, thou art but a dead man;
Therfor nowe shalt thou blede.”
“Abide, Sir Gromer,” said King Arthoure,
“I have one answere shalle make alle sure.”
“Let see,” then said Sir Gromer,
“Or els, so God me help, as I thee say,
Thy dethe thou shalt have with large paye,
I telle thee nowe ensure.”
“Now,” said the King, “I see, as I gesse,
In thee is but a litelle gentilnesse,
By God that ay is helpand.
Here is oure answere, and that is alle,
That wemen desiren moste specialle,
Bothe of free and bond.
I saye no more, but above all thing
Wemen desire sovereinté, for that is their liking;
And that is ther moste desire;
To have the rewlle of the manliest men,
And then ar they welle, thus they me did ken,
To rule thee, Gromer Sire.”
“And she that told thee nowe, Sir Arthoure,
I pray to God, I maye see her bren on a fire,
For that was my suster, Dame Ragnelle.
That old scott, God geve her shame,
Elles had I made thee fulle tame;
Nowe have I lost moche travaille.
Go where thou wolt, King Arthoure,
For of me thou maist be evere sure.
Alas, that I evere see this day!
Nowe, welle I wot, mine enime thou wolt be.
And at suche a prick shalle I nevere get thee;
My song may be welle-awaye!”
“No,” said the King, “that make I warraunt;
Some harnis I wolle have to make me defendaunt,
That make I God avowe!
In suche a plighte shalt thou nevere me finde,
And if thou do, let me bete and binde,
As is for thy best prouf.”
“Nowe have good day,” said Sir Gromer;
“Farewell,” said Sir Arthoure, “so mot I thee,
I am glad I have so sped.”
King Arthoure turnid his hors into the plain,
And sone he met withe Dame Ragnelle again,
In the same place and stede.
“Sir King, I am glad ye have sped welle,
I told howe it wold be every delle;
Nowe hold that he have highte.
Sin I have savid your lif, and none other,
Gawen must me wed, Sir Arthoure,
That is a fulle gentille knighte.”
“No, lady, that I you highte I shalle not faille;
So ye woll be rulid by my councelle,
Your wille then shalle ye have.”
“Nay, Sir King, nowe wolle I not so,
Openly I woll be weddid, or I parte thee fro.
Elles shame welle ye have.
Ride before, and I wolle com after,
Unto thy courte, Sir King Arthoure;
Of no man I wolle shame;
Bethink you howe I have savid your lif.
Therfor withe me nowe shalle ye not strife,
For and ye do, ye be to blame.”
The king of her had great shame;
But forthe she rood, thoughe he were grevid,
Tille they cam to Carlyle forthe they mevid.
Into the courte she rode him by
For no man wold she spare, securly.
It liked the king fulle ille.
Alle the contraye had wonder great,
Fro whens she com, that foule unswete;
They sawe nevere of so foulle a thing.
Into the halle she went, in certen.
“Arthoure, King, let fetche me Sir Gaweyn,
Before the knightes, alle in hying,
That I may nowe be made sekir;
In welle and wo trowithe plighte un togeder
Before alle thy chivalry.
This is your graunt, let see, have done.
Set forthe Sir Gawen, my love, anon,
For lenger tarrying kepe not I.”
Then cam forthe Sir Gawen the knighte,
“Sir, I am redy of that I you highte,
Alle forwardes to fulfille.”
“Godhavemercy,” said Dame Ragnelle then,
“For thy sake I wold I were a faire woman,
For thou art of so good wille.”
Ther Sir Gawen to her his trouthe plighte
In welle and in wo, as he was a true knighte;
Then was Dame Ragnelle fain.
“Alas!” then said Dame Gaynor;
So said alle the ladies in her bower
And wept for Sir Gawen.
“Alas!” then said bothe king and knight,
That evere he shold wed suche a wighte,
She was so foulle and horrible.
She had two teethe on every side
As boris tuskes, I wolle not hide,
Of lengthe a large handfulle;
The one tusk went up and the other doun;
A mouthe fulle wide and foulle y-grown.
With grey heris many on.
Her lippes laye lumprid on her chin;
Neck forsothe on her was none y-seen—
She was a lothly on!
She wold not be weddid in no maner
But there were made a crye in all the shire,
Bothe in town and in borrowe.
Alle the ladies nowe of the lond,
She let cry to com to hand
To kepe that bridalle thorowe.
So it befille after on a daye
That married shold be that foulle lady
Unto Sir Gawen.
The daye was comin the daye shold be;
Therof the ladies had great pitey.
“Allas!” then gan they sayn.
The queen prayd Dame Ragnelle sekerly
To be married in the morning erly . . .
“As privaly as we may.”
“Nay,” she sayd, “by Hevin King,
That wolle I nevere for no thing,
For oughte that ye can saye.
I woll be weddid alle openly,
For withe the king such covenaunt made I.
I put you oute of doute,
I wolle not to churche tille highe masse time
And in the open halle I wolle dine,
In middis of alle the route.”
“I am greed,” said Dame Gaynour,
“But me wold think more honour
And your worship moste.”
“Ye, as for that, lady, God you save,
This daye my worship wolle I have,
I telle you withoute boste.”
She made her redy to churche to fare
And alle the states that there ware,
Sirs, withoute lesing.
She was arrayd in the richest maner,
More fresher than Dame Gaynour;
Her arrayment was worthe three thousand mark
Of good red nobles stiff and stark,
So richely she was begon.
For alle her rayment she bare the belle
Of foulnesse that evere I hard telle—
So foulle a sowe saw nevere man.
For to make a short conclusion,
When she was weddid, they hyed theim home;
To mete alle they went.
This foulle lady began the highe dese;
She was fulle foulle and not curteis,
So said they alle verament.
When the service cam her before,
She ete as moche as six that ther wore;
That mervailid many a man.
Her nailes were long inchis three;
Therwithe she breke her mete ungoodly;
Therfore she ete alone.
She ette three capons and also curlues three,
And great bake metes she ete up, perdé.
All men therof had mervaille.
Ther was no mete cam her before,
But she ete it up lesse and more,
That praty foulle dameselle.
Alle men then that evere her sawe
Bad the deville her bonis gnawe,
Bothe knighte and squire.
So she ete tille mete was done,
Tille they drewe clothes and had washen
As is the gise and manner.
Meny men wold speke of diverse service,
I trowe ye may wete y-noughe ther was,
Bothe of tame and wilde;
In King Arthours courte ther was no wont
That mighte be gotten withe mannis hond,
Noder in forest ne in feld.
Ther were minstralles of diverse contrey.

“A, Sir Gawen, sin I have you wed,
Shewe me your cortesy in bed;
Withe righte it may not be denied.
Y-wise, Sir Gawen,” that lady said,
“And I were faire ye wold do anoder braid,
But of wedlock ye take no heed.
Yet of Arthours sake kisse me at the leste;
I pray you do this at my request,
Let see howe ye can spede.”
Sir Gawen said, “I wolle do more
Then for to kisse, and God before!”
He turnid him her untille.
He sawe her the fairest creature
That evere he sawe withoute mesure.
She said, “What is your wille?”
“A, Jhesu!” he said, “whate are ye?”
“Sir, I am your wif, securly;
Why ar ye so unkinde?”
“A, lady, I am to blame;
I cry you mercy, my faire madame—
It was not in my minde.
A lady ye ar faire in my sighte
And today ye were the foulist wighte
That evere I sawe withe mine ie.
Wele is me, my lady, I have you thus”;
And brasid her in his armis and gan her kisse
And made great joye sicurly.
“Sir,” she said, “thus shalle ye me have;
Chese of the one, so God me save,
My beauty wolle not hold:
Wheder ye wolle have me faire on nightes
And as foulle on days to alle men sightes
Or els to have me faire on days
And on nightes on the foulist wife,
The one ye must nedes have.
Chese the one or the oder.
Chese on, Sir Knighte, whiche you is levere,
Your worship for to save.”
“Alas!” said Gawen, “the choise is hard.
To chese the best it is froward.
Wheder choise that I chese,
To have you faire on nightes and no more,
That wold greve my hart righte sore
And my worship shold I lese.
And if I desire on days to have you faire,
Then on nightes I shold have a simple repaire.
Now fain wold I chose the best,
I ne wot in this world what I shall saye,
But do as ye list nowe, my lady gaye.
The choise I put in your fist.
Evin as ye wolle, I put it in your hand,
Lose me when ye list, for I am bond.
I put the choise in you.
Bothe body and goodes, hart, and every dele,
Is alle your own, for to by and selle—
That make I God avowe!”
“Gramercy, corteis knighte,” said the lady;
“Of alle erthly knightes blissid mot thou be,
For now am I worshippid.
Thou shalle have me faire bothe day and nighte
And evere while I live as faire and brighte;
Therfore be not grevid.
For I was shapen by nigramancy,
Withe my stepdame, God have on her mercy,
And by enchauntement,
And shold have bene oderwise understond,
Evin tille the best of Englond
Had weddid me verament.
And also he shold geve me the sovereinté
Of alle his body and goodes, sicurly;
Thus was I disformid;
And thou, Sir Knighte, curteis Gawen,
Has gevin me the sovereinté sertein,
That wolle not wrothe thee erly ne late.
Kisse me, Sir Knighte, evin now here,
I pray thee, be glad and make good chere,
For welle is me begon.”
Ther they made joye oute of minde,
So was it reason and cours of kinde,
They two theimself alone.
She thankid God and Mary milde
She was recovered of that that she was defoilid;
So did Sir Gawen.
He made mirthe alle in her boure
And thankid of alle oure Savioure,
I telle you, in certain.
With joye and mirthe they wakid tille daye
And than wold rise that faire maye.
“Ye shalle not,” Sir Gawen said;
“We wolle lie and slepe tille prime
And then let the king calle us to dine.”
“I am greed,” then said the maid.
Thus it passid forth till middaye.
“Sirs,” quod the king, “let us go and assaye
If Sir Gawen be on live.
I am fulle ferd of Sir Gawen,
Nowe lest the fende have him slain;
Nowe wold I fain preve.
Go we nowe,” said Arthoure the king.
“We wolle go see their uprising,
Howe welle that he hathe sped.”
They cam to the chambre alle in certain.
“Arise,” said the king to Sir Gawen;
“Why slepist thou so long in bed?”
“Mary,” quod Gawen, “Sir King, sicurly,
I wold be glad, and ye wold let me be,
For I am fulle welle at eas.
Abide, ye shalle see the dore undone!
I trowe that ye wolle say I am welle gon;
I am fulle lothe to rise.”
Sir Gawen rose and in his hand he toke
His fair lady and to the dore he shoke
And opinid the dore fulle faire.
She stood in her smock alle by that fire;
Her her was to her knees as red as gold wire.
“Lo, this is my repaire!
Lo!” said Gawen Arthoure untille,
“Sir, this is my wife, Dame Ragnelle,
That savid onis your life.”
He told the king and the queen hem beforn
Howe sodenly from her shap she did torne,
“My lord, nowe by your leve.”
And whate was the cause she forshapen was
Sir Gawen told the king both more and lesse.
“I thank God,” said the queen,
“I wenid, Sir Gawen, she wold thee have miscaried;
Therfore in my hart I was sore agrevid;
But the contrary is here seen.”
There was game, revelle, and playe
And every man to other gan saye,
“She is faire wighte.”
Than the king them alle gan telle
How did held him at nede Dame Ragnelle,
“Or my dethe had bene dighte.”
Ther the king told the queen, by the rood,
How he was bestad in Ingleswood
Withe Sir Gromer Somer Joure
And whate othe the knighte made him swere
“Or elles he had slain me righte there
Withoute mercy or mesure.
This same lady, Dame Ragnelle,
From my dethe she did help me right welle
Alle for the love of Gawen.”
Then Gawen told the king alle togeder
Howe forshapen she was withe her stepmoder
Tille a knighte had holpen her again;
Ther she told the king faire and welle
Howe Gawen gave her the sovereinté every delle
And whate choise she gave to him.
“God thank him of his curtesie;
He savid me from chaunce and vilony
That was fulle foulle and grim.
Therfore, curteis knighte and hend Gawen,
Shalle I nevere wrathe thee sertain,
That promise nowe here I make;
Whiles that I live I shall be obaisaunt;
To God above I shalle it warraunt,
And nevere with you to debate.”
“Garamercy, lady,” then said Gawen,
“With you I hold me fulle welle content,
And that I trust to finde.”
He said, “My love shalle she have;
Therafter nede she nevere more crave,
For she hathe bene to me so kinde.”
The queen said (and the ladies alle),
“She is the fairest nowe in this halle,
I swere by Saint John!
My love, lady, ye shalle have evere,
For that ye savid my lord Arthoure,
As I am a gentilwoman.”
Sir Gawen gat on her Gyngolyn,
That was a good knighte of strengthe and kin
And of the Table Round.
At every great fest that lady shold be.
Of fairnesse she bare away the bewtye,
Wher she yed on the ground.
Gawen lovid that lady Dame Ragnelle;
In alle his life he lovid none so welle,
I telle you withoute lesing.
As a coward he lay by her bothe day and night.
Nevere wold he haunt justing arighte;
Therat mervailed Arthoure the king.
She praid the king for his gentilnes,
“To be good lord to Sir Gromer, y-wisse,
Of that to you he hathe offendid.”
“Yes, lady, that shalle I nowe for your sake,
For I wot welle he may not amendes make;
He did to me fulle unhend.”
Nowe for to make you a short conclusion,
I cast me for to make an end fulle sone
Of this gentille lady.
She livid withe Sir Gawen but yeris five;
That grevid Gawen alle his life,
I telle you securly.
In her life she grevid him nevere;
Therfor was nevere woman to him lever.
Thus leves my talking.
She was the fairest lady of alle Englond,
When she was on live, I understand;
So said Arthoure the king.
Thus endithe the adventure of King Arthoure,
That oft in his days was grevid sore,
And of the wedding of Gawen.
Gawen was weddid oft in his days;
But so welle he nevere lovid woman always,
As I have hard men sayn.
This adventure befelle in Ingleswood,
As good King Arthoure on hunting yod;
Thus have I hard men telle.
Nowe God as thou were in Bethleme boren
Suffer nevere her soules be forlorne
In the brinning fire of helle!
And, Jhesu, as thou were borne of a virgin,
Help him oute of sorrowe that this tale did devine,
And that nowe in alle hast,
For he is beset withe gailours many,
That kepen him fulle sewerly,
With wiles wrong and wraste.
Nowe God, as thou art veray king royalle,
Help him oute of daunger that made this tale,
For therin he hathe bene long.
And of great pety help thy servaunt,
For body and soulle I yeld into thine hand,
For paines he hathe strong.

Here endithe the wedding of
Sir Gawen and Dame Ragnelle
For helping of King Arthoure.