Here bigyns Ywaine and Gawain

Almyghti God þat made mankyn
He schilde his servandes out of syn,
And mayntene þam with might and mayne,
þat herkens Ywayne and Gawayne.
þai war knightes of þe tabyl rownde,
þarfore listens a lytel stownde.
Arthure, þe kyng of Yngland,
þat wan al Wales with his hand,
And al Scotland, als sayes þe buke,
And mani mo, if men wil luke,
Of al knightes he bare þe pryse:
In werld was none so war ne wise;
Trew he was in alkyn thing.
Als it byfel to swilk a kyng,
He made a feste, þe soth to say,
Opon þe Witsononday
At Kerdyf þat es in Wales.
And efter mete þare in þe hales,
Ful grete and gay was þe assemble
Of lordes and ladies of þat cuntre,
And als of knyghtes war and wyse,
And damisels of mykel pryse.
Ilkane with oþer made grete gamin,
And grete solace als þai war samin.
Fast þai carped and curtaysly
Of dedes of armes and of veneri,
And of gude knightes þat lyfed þen,
And how men might þam kyndeli ken
By doghtines of þaire gude dede
On ilka syde wharesum þai gede;
For þai war stif in ilka stowre,
And þarfore gat þai grete honowre.
þar tald of more trewth þam bitwene
þan now omang men here es sene,
For trowth and luf es al bylaft:
Men uses now anoþer craft.
With worde men makes it trew and stabil.
Bot in þaire faith es noght bot fabil;
With þe mowth men makes it hale,
Bot trew trowth es nane in þe tale.
þarfore hereof now wil I blyn;
Of þe Kyng Arthure I wil bygin
And of his curtayse cumpany.
þare was þe flowre of chevallry:
Swilk lose þai wan with speres horde,
Over al þe werld went þe worde.
After mete went þe kyng
Into chamber to slepeing,
And also went with him þe quene;
þat byheld þai al bydene,
For þai saw þam never so
On high dayes to chamber go.
Bot sone, when þai war went to slepe,
Knyghtes sat þe dor to kepe:
Sir Dedyne and Sir Segramore,
Sir Gawayn and Sir Kay sat þore,
And also sat þare Sir Ywaine,
And Colgrevance of mekyl mayn.
þis knight þat hight Colgrevance,
Tald his felows of a chance
And of a stowre he had in bene;
And al his tale herd þe quene.
þe chamber dore sho has unshet,
And down omang þam scho hir set;
Sodainli sho sat downright,
Or ani of þam of hir had sight.
Bot Colgrevance rase up in hy,
And þareof had Syr Kay envy,
For he was of his tong a skalde,
And for to boste was he ful balde.
" Ow Colgrevance," said Sir Kay,
" Ful light of lepes has þou bene ay.
þou wenes now þat þe sal fall
For to be hendest of us all.
And þe quene sal understand
þat here es none so unkunand;
Al if þou rase and we sat styll,
We ne dyd it for none yll,
Ne for no manere of fayntise,
Ne us denyd noght for to rise,
þat we ne had resen had we hyr sene."
" Sir Kay, I wote wele," sayd þe quene,
" And it war gude þou left swilk sawes
And noght despise so þi felawes."
" Madame," he said, " by Goddes dome,
We ne wist nothing of þi come;
And if we did noght curtaysly,
Takes to no velany
Bot pray ge now þis gentil man
To tel þe tale þat he bygan.
Colgrevance said to Sir Kay:
" Bi grete God þat aw þis day,
Na mare manes me þi flyt
þan it war a flies byt.
Ful oft wele better men þan I
Has þou desspised desspytusely.
It es ful semeli, als me think,
A brok omang men for to stynk.
So it fars by þe, Syr Kay:
Of weked wordes has þou bene ay,
And sen þi wordes er wikked and fell,
þis time þarto na more I tell,
Bot of the thing þat I bygan."
And sone Sir Kay him answerd þan
And said ful tite unto þe quene:
" Madame, if ge had noght here bene,
We sold have herd a selly case;
Now let ge us of oure solace.
þarfore, madame, we wald gow pray,
þat ge cumand him to say
And tel forth, als he had tyght."
þan answerd þat hende knight:
" Mi lady es so avyse,
þat scho wil noght cumand me
To tel þat towches me to ill;
Scho es noght of so weked will."
Sir Kai said þan ful smertli:
" Madame, al hale þis cumpani,
Praies gow hertly now omell,
þat he his tale forth might tell;
If ge wil noght for oure praying,
For faith ge aw unto þe kyng,
Cumandes him his tale to tell,
þat we mai here how it byfell."
þan said þe quene, " Sir Colgrevance,
I prai þe tak to no grevance
þis kene karping of Syr Kay;
Of weked wordes has he þene ay,
So þat none may him chastise.
þarfore I prai þe, on al wise,
þat þou let noght for his sawes,
At tel to me and þi felawes
Al þi tale, how it bytid:
For my luf I þe pray and byd."
" Sertes, madame, þat es me lath;
Bot for I wil noght mak gow wrath,
Gowre cumandment I sal fulfill,
If ge wil listen me untill,
With hertes and eres understandes;
And I sal tel gow swilk tithandes,
þat ge herd never none slike
Reherced in no kynges ryke.
Bot word fares als dose þe wind,
Bot if men it in hert bynd;
And, wordes woso trewly tase,
By þe eres into þe hert it gase,
And in þe hert þare es þe horde
And knawing of ilk mans worde.
Herkens, hende, unto my spell,
Trofels sal I gow nane tell,
Ne lesinges forto ger gow lagh;
Bot I sal say right als I sagh.
Now als þis time, sex gere,
I rade allane, ais ge sal here,
Obout forto seke aventurs,
Wele armid in gude armurs,
In a frith I fand a strete,
Eul thik and hard, I gow bihete,
With thornes, breres, and moni a quyn.
Nerehand al day I rade þareyn,
And thurgh I past with mekyl payn.
þan come I sone into a playn,
Whare I gan se a bretise brade,
And þederward ful fast I rade.
I saw þe walles and þe dyke,
And hertly wele it gan me lyke.
And on þe drawbrig saw I stand
A knight with fawkon on his hand.
þis ilk knight, þat be ge balde,
Was lord and keper of þat halde.
I hailsed him kindly als I kowth;
He answerd me mildeli with mowth.
Mi sterap toke þat hende knight
And kindly cumanded me to lyght;
His cumandment I did onane,
And into hall sone war we tane.
He thanked God, þat gude man,
Sevyn sithes or ever he blan,
And þe way þat me þeder broght,
And als þe aventurs þat I soght.
þus went we in, God do him mede,
And in his hand he led my stede.
When we war in þat fayre palays —
It was ful worthly wroght always —
I saw no man of moder born.
Bot a burde hang us biforn,
Was nowther of yren ne of tre,
Ne I ne wist whareof it might be,
And by þat bord hang a mall.
þe knyght smate on þarwithall
Thrise, and by þen might men se
Bifore him come a faire menge,
Curtayse men in worde and dede;
To stabil sone þai led mi stede.
A damisel come unto me,
þe semeliest þat ever I se:
Lufsumer lifed never in land.
Hendly scho toke me by þe hand,
And sone þat gentyl creature
Al unlaced myne armure.
Into a chamber sho me led,
And with a mantil scho me cled:
It was of purpure faire and fine,
And þe pane of rich ermyne.
Al þe folk war went us fra,
And þare was none þan bot we twa.
Scho served me hendely te bend;
Hir maners might no man amend.
Of tong sho was trew and renable
And of hir semblant soft and stabile.
Ful fain I wald, if þat I might,
Have woned with þat swete wight.
And, when we sold go to sopere,
þat lady with a lufsom chere
Led me down into þe hall,
þare war we served wele at all.
It nedes noght to tel þe mese,
For wonder wele war we at esse.
Byfor me sat þe lady bright
Curtaisly my mete to dyght;
Us wanted nowþer baken ne roste.
And efter soper sayd myne oste
þat he cowth noght tel þe day
þat ani knight are with him lay,
Or þat ani aventures soght.
þarfore he prayed me, if I moght,
On al wise when I come ogayne,
þat I sold cum to him sertayne.
I said, " Sir, gladly, yf I may. "
It had bene shame have said him nay.
þat night had I ful gude rest,
And mi stede esed of þe best.
Alsone als it was dayes lyght,
Forth to fare sone was I dyght.
Mi leve of mine ost toke I þare,
And went mi way withowten mare,
Aventures forto layt in land.
A faire forest sone I fand;
Me thoght mi hap þare fel ful hard,
For þare was mani a wilde lebard,
Lions, beres, bath bul and bare,
þat rewfully gan rope and rare.
Oway I drogh me, and with þat
I saw sone whare a man sat
On a lawnd, þe fowlest wight
þat ever git man saw in syght.
He was a lathly creature,
For fowl he was out of mesure;
A wonder mace in hand he hade,
And sone mi way to him I made.
His hevyd, me thoght, was als grete
Als of a rowncy or a nete;
Unto his belt hang his hare,
And efter þat byheld I mare.
To his forhede byheld I þan,
Was bradder þan twa large span;
He had eres als ane olyfant
And was wele more þan geant.
His face was ful brade and flat;
His nese was cutted als a cat;
His browes war like litel buskes;
And his tethe like bare-tuskes.
A ful grete bulge opon his bak —
þare was noght made withowten lac —
His chin was fast until his brest;
On his mace he gan him rest.
Also it was a wonder wede
þat þe cherle yn gede:
Nowther of wol ne of line
Was þe wede þat he went yn.
When he me sagh, he stode upright;
I frayned him if he wolde fight,
For þarto was I in gude will,
Bot als a beste þan stode he still.
I hopid þat he no wittes kowth,
No reson forto speke with mowth.
To him I spak ful hardily,
And said: " What ertow, belamy? "
He said ogain: " I am a man. "
I said: " Swilk saw I never nane. "
" What ertow? " alsone said he.
I said: " Swilk als þou here may se. "
I said: " What dose þou here allane? "
He said: " I kepe þir bestes ilkane. "
I said: " þat es mervaile, think me;
For I herd never of man bot þe,
In wildernes ne in forestes,
þat kepeing had of wilde bestes,
Bot þar war bunden fast in halde. "
He sayd: " Of þire es none so balde
Nowþer by day ne bi night
Anes to pas out of mi sight. "
I sayd, " How so? Tel me þi scill. "
" Parfay, " he said, " gladly I will. "
He said: " In al þis faire foreste
Es þare none so wilde beste
þat remu dar, bot stil stand,
When I am to him cumand.
And ay, when þat I wil him fang
With mi fingers þat er strang,
I ger him cri on swilk manere,
þat al þe bestes when þai him here
Obout me þan cum þar all,
And to mi fete fast þai fall,
On þaire manere merci to cry.
Bot understand now redyli:
Olyve es þate lifand no ma
Bot I þat durst omang þam ga,
þat he ne sold sone be al torent.
Bot þai er at my comandment;
To me þai cum when I þam call,
And I am maister of þam all. "
þan he asked onone right,
What man I was; I said, a knight
þat soght aventurs in þat land,
My body to asai and fande.
" And I þe pray of þi kownsayle,
þou teche me to sum mervayle. "
He sayd: " I can no wonders tell,
Bot here bisyde es a well.
Wend þeder and do als I say;
þou passes noght al quite oway.
Folow forth þis ilk strete,
And sone sum mervayles sal þou mete.
þe well es under þe fairest tre
þat ever was in þis cuntre;
By þat well hinges a bacyne
þat es of gold gude and fyne,
With a cheyne, trewly to tell,
þat wil reche into þe well.
þare es a chapel nere þarby,
þat nobil es and ful lufely.
By þe well standes a stane:
Tak þe bacyn sone onane
And cast on water with þi hand,
And sone þou sal se new tithand.
A storme sal rise and a tempest
Al obout, by est and west;
þou sal here mani thonor-blast
Al obout þe blawand fast.
And þare sal cum slik slete and rayne
þat unnese sal þou stand ogayne;
Of lightnes sal þou se a lowe.
Unnethes þou sal þiselven knowe.
And, if þou pas withowten grevance,
þan has þou þe fairest chance,
þat ever git had any knyght,
þat þeder come to kyth his myght. "
þan toke I leve and went my way
And rade unto þe midday;
By þan I come whare I sold be,
I saw þe chapel and þe tre.
þare I fand þe fayrest thorne
þat ever groued sen God was born:
So thik it was with leves grene,
Might no rayn cum þarbytwene;
And þat grenes lastes ay,
For no winter dere yt may.
I fand þe bacyn als he talde,
And þe wel with water kalde.
An amerawd was þe stane,
Richer saw I never nane.
On fowre rubyes on heght standand;
þaire light lasted over al þe land.
And when I saw þat semely syght,
It made me bath joyful and lyght.
I toke þe bacyn sone onane
And helt water opon þe stane.
þe weder wex þan wonder blak,
And þe thoner fast gan crak.
þare come slike stormes of hayl and rayn,
Unnethes I might stand þare ogayn;
þe store windes blew ful lowd,
So kene come never are of clowd.
I was drevyn with snaw and slete,
Unnethes I might stand on my fete;
In my face þe levening smate,
I wend have brent, so was it hate.
þat weder made me so will of rede,
I hopid sone to have my dede,
And sertes, if it lang had last,
I hope I had never þeþin past.
Bot thorgh his might þat tholed wownd,
þe storme sesed within a stownde.
þan wex þe weder fayre ogayne,
And þareof was I wonder fayne:
For best comforth of al thing
Es solace efter myslikeing.
þan saw I sone a mery syght:
Of al þe fowles þat er in flyght
Lighted so thik opon þat tre,
þat bogh ne lefe none might I se.
So merily þan gon þai sing
þat al þe wode bigan to ring;
Ful mery was þe melody
Of þaire sang and of þaire cry.
þare herd never man none swilk,
Bot if ani had herd þat ilk.
And when þat mery dyn was done,
Anoþer noyse þan herd I sone,
Als it war of horsmen
Mo þan owþer nyen or ten.
Sone þan saw I cum a knyght,
In riche armurs was he dight;
And sone, when I gan on him loke,
Mi shelde and spere to me I toke.
þat knight to me hied ful fast,
And kene wordes out gan he cast.
He bad þat I sold tel him tite,
Whi I did him swilk despite,
With weders wakend him of rest
And done him wrang in his forest.
" þarfore, " he said, " þou sal aby. "
And with þat come he egerly
And said I had, ogayn resowne,
Done him grete destrucciowne,
And might it never more amend,
þarfore he bad I sold me fend.
And sone I smate him on þe shelde,
Mi schaft brac out in þe felde,
And þan he bare me sone bi strenkith
Out of my sadel my speres lenkith.
I wate þat he was largely
By þe shuldres mare þan I;
And bi þe ded þat I sal thole,
Mi stede by his was bot a fole.
For mate I lay down on þe grownde,
So was I stonayd in þat stownde.
A worde to me wald he noght say,
Bot toke my stede and went his way.
Ful sarily þarr þare I sat,
For wa I wist noght what was what.
With my stede he went in hy
þe same way þat he come by.
And I durst folow him no ferr
For dout me solde bitide werr;
And also git, by Goddes dome,
I ne wist whare he bycome.
þan I thoght how I had hight
Unto myne ost, þe hende knyght,
And also til his lady bryght,
To com ogayn if þat I myght.
Mine armurs left I þare ilkane,
For els myght I noght have gane.
Unto myne in I come by day.
þe hende knight and þe fayre may
Of my come war þai ful glade,
And nobil semblant þai me made.
In al thinges þai have þam born
Als þai did þe night biforn.
Sone þai wist whare I had bene,
And said þat þai had never sene
Knyght þat ever þeder come,
Take þe way ogayn home.
On þis wise þat tyme I wroght,
I fand þe folies þat I soght.
" Now sekerly," said Sir Ywayne,
" þou ert my cosyn jermayne,
Trew luf suld be us bytwene,
Als sold bytwyx breþer bene.
þou ert a fole at þou ne had are
Tald me of þis ferly fare,
For sertes I sold onone ryght
Have venged þe of þat ilk knyght;
So sal I git, if þat I may."
And þan als smertly sayd Syr Kay —
He karpet to þam wordes grete —
" It es sene now es efter mete:
Mare boste es in a pot of wyne
þan in a karcas of Saynt Martyne.
Arme þe smertly, Syr Ywavne!
And sone, þat þou war cumen ogayne,
Luke þou fil wele þi panele,
And in þi sadel set þe wele.
And, when þou wendes, I þe pray,
þi baner weie þat þou desplay;
And, rede I, or þou wende,
þou tak þi leve at ilka frende;
And if it so bytide þis nyght,
þat þe in slepe dreche ani wight
Or any dremis mak þe rad,
Turn ogayn and say " I bad! " "
þe quene answerd with milde mode,
And said: " Sir Kay, ertow wode?
What þe devyl es þe withyn,
At þi tong may never blyn
þi felows so fowly to shende?
Sertes, Sir Kay, þou ert unhende.
By him þat for us sufferd pine,
Syr, and þe tong war myne,
I sold bical it tyte of treson,
And so might þou do, by gude reson.
þi tong dose þe grete dishonowre,
And þarefore es it þi traytowre."
And þan alsone Syr Ywayne
Ful hendly answerd ogayne
(Al if men sayd hym velany,
He karped ay ful curtaysly):
" Madame," he said unto þe quene,
" þare sold na stryf be us bytwene.
Unkowth men wele may he shende
þat to his felows es so unhende.
And als, madame, men says sertayne
þat, woso flites or turnes ogayne,
He bygins al þe melle:
So wil I noght it far by me.
Lates him say halely his thoght,
His wordes greves me right noght."
Als þai war in þis spekeing
Out of þe chamber come þe kyng.
þe barons þat war þare, sertayn,
Smertly rase þai him ogayne.
He bad þam sit down al bydene,
And down he set him by þe quene.
þe quene talde him fayre and wele,
Als sho kowth, everilka dele,
Ful apertly al þe chance
Als it bifel Syr Colgrevance.
When sho had talde him how it ferd,
And þe king hyr tale had herd,
He sware by his owyn crowne
And his fader sowl, Uter Pendragowne,
þat he sold se þat ilk syght
By þat day þeþin a fowretenight,
On Saint Johns evyn, þe Baptist,
þat best barn was under Crist.
" Swith," he sayd, " wendes with me,
Whoso wil þat wonder se."
þe kynges word might noght be hid,
Over al þe cowrt sone was it kyd;
And þare was none so litel page
þat he ne was fayn of þat vayage;
And knyghtes and swiers war ful fayne;
Mysliked none bot Syr Ywayne.
To himself he made grete mane,
For he wald have went allane;
In hert he had grete myslykyng
For þe wending of þe kyng,
Al for he hopid, withowten fayle,
þat Sir Kay sold ask þe batayle,
Or els Sir Gawayn, knyght vailant;
And owþer wald þe king grant.
Whoso it wald first crave
Of þam two, sone might it have.
þe kynges wil wald he noght bide,
Worth of him, what may bityde;
Bi him allane he thoght to wend,
And tak þe grace þat God wald send.
He thoght to be wele on hys way,
Or it war passed þe thryd day,
And to asay if he myght mete
With þat ilk narow strete,
With thornes and with breres set,
þat mens way might lightli let;
And also for to fynd þe halde
þat Sir Colgrevance of talde,
þe knyght and þe mayden meke.
þe forest fast þan wald he seke
And als þe karl of Kaymes kyn,
And þe wilde bestes with him,
þe tre with briddes þareopon,
þe chapel, þe bacyn and þe stone.
His thoght wald he tel to no frende
Until he wyst how it wald ende.
þan went Ywaine to his yn;
His men he fand redy þareyn.
Unto a swier gan he say:
" Go swith and sadel my palfray,
And so þou do my strang stede,
And tak with þe my best wede.
At gone gate I wil out ryde,
Withowten town I sal þe bide,
And hy þe smertly unto me,
For I most make a jorne,
Ogain sal þou bring my palfray,
And forbede þe oght to say.
If þou wil any more me se
Lat none wit of my prevete;
And if ani man þe oght frayn,
Luke now lely þat þou layn.
" Sir," he said, " with ful gude will,
Als ge byd, I sal fulfill,
At gowre awyn wil may ge ride,
For me ge sal noght be ascryed."