ORIGINAL VERSION OF THE TEXT
Part 3 lines 1454-1534

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Schalke3 to schote at hym schowen to thenne,
Haled to hym of her arewe3, hitten hym oft;
Bot the poynte3 payred at the pyth that py3t in his scheldez,
And the barbe3 of his browe bite non wolde--
Tha3 the schauen schaft schyndered in pece3,
The hede hypped a3ayn were-so-euer hit hitte.

Bot quen the dynte3 hym dered of her dry3e strokez,
Then, braynwod for bate, on burne3 he rasez,
Hurte3 hem ful heterly ther he forth hy3ez,
And mony ar3ed therat, and on lyte droyghen.
Bot the lorde on a ly3t horce launces hym after,
As burne bolde vpon bent his bugle he blowe3,
He rechated, and rode thur3 rone3 ful thyk,
Suande this wylde swyn til the sunne schafted.
This day wyth this ilk dede thay dryuen on this wyse,
Whyle oure luflych lede lys in his bedde,
Gawayn graythely at home, in gere3 ful ryche
of hewe.
The lady no3t foryghate,
Com to hym to salue;
Ful erly ho wat3 hym ate
His mode for to remwe.
Ho commes to the cortyn, and at the kny3t totes.
Sir Wawen her welcumed worthy on fyrst,
And ho hym 3elde3 ayghayn ful ygherne of hir wordez,
Sette3 hir softly by his syde, and swythely ho la3ez,
And wyth a luflych loke ho layde hym thyse worde3:
"Sir, 3if yghe be Wawen, wonder me thynkke3,
Wy3e that is so wel wrast alway to god,
And conne3 not of compaynye the costez vndertake,
And if mon kennes yow hom to knowe, 3e kest hom of your mynde;
Thou hat3 for3eten yghederly that yghisterday I tayghtte
Bi alder-truest token of talk that I cowthe."
"What is that?" quoth the w3e, "Iwysse I wot neuer;
If hit be sothe that 3e breue, the blame is myn awen."
"Yghet I kende yow of kyssyng," quoth the clere thenne,
"Quere-so countenaunce is couthe quikly to clayme;
That bicumes vche a kny3t that cortaysy vses."
"Do way," quoth that derf mon, "my dere, that speche,
For that durst I not do, lest I deuayed were;
If I were werned, I were wrang, iwysse, 3if I profered."
"Ma fay," quoth the mere wyf, "3e may not be werned,

Yghe ar stif innoghe to constrayne wyth strenkthe, 3if yow lyke3,
Yghif any were so vilanous that yow devaye wolde."
"Yghe, be God," quoth Gawayn, "good is your speche,
Bot threte is vnthryuande in thede ther I lende,
And vche gift that is geuen not with goud wylle.
I am at your comaundement, to kysse quen yow lyke3,
Yghe may lach quen yow lyst, and leue quen yow thynkke3,
in space."
The lady loute3 adoun,
And comlyly kysses his face,
Much speche thay ther expoun
Of druryes greme and grace.
"I woled wyt at yow, wy3e," that worthy ther sayde,
"And yow wrathed not therwyth, what were the skylle
That so 3ong and so yghepe as yghe at this tyme,
So cortayse, so kny3tly, as yghe ar knowen oute--
And of alle cheualry to chose, the chef thyng alosed
Is the lel layk of luf, the lettrure of armes;
For to telle of this teuelyng of this trwe kny3te3,
Hit is the tytelet token and tyxt of her werkke3,
How ledes for her lele luf hor lyue3 han auntered,
Endured for her drury dulful stounde3,
And after wenged with her walour and voyded her care,
And bro3t blysse into boure with bountees hor awen--
And 3e ar knyyght comlokest kyd of your elde,
Your worde and your worchip walke3 ayquere,
And I haf seten by yourself here sere twyes,
Yghet herde I neuer of your hed helde no worde3
That euer longed to luf, lasse ne more;
And 3e, that ar so cortays and coynt of your hetes,
Oghe to a 3onke thynk yghern to schewe
And teche sum tokene3 of trweluf craftes.
Why! ar 3e lewed, that alle the los welde3?
Other elles 3e demen me to dille your dalyaunce to herken?
For schame!
I com hider sengel, and sitte
To lerne at yow sum game;

Dos, teche3 me of your wytte,
Whil my lorde is fro hame."