XI.

"God preserve thee!" says the Green Knight, "Gawayn," quod þat grene gome, "God þe mot loke! 2240 I-wysse þou art welcom,¹ wyȝe, to my place, "as a true knight 'thou hast timed thy travel' & þou hatȝ tymed þi trauayl as true² mon schulde; Thou knowest the covenant between us, & þou knoweȝ þe couenaunteȝ kest vus by-twene, At þis tyme twelmonyth þou toke þat þe falled, that on New Year's day I should return thy blow 2244 & I schulde at þis nwe ȝere ȝeply þe quyte. Here we are alone, & we ar in þis valay, verayly oure one, Here ar no renkes vs to rydde, rele as vus likeȝ; Have off thy helmet and take thy pay at once." Haf þy³ helme of þy hede, & haf here þy pay; 2248 Busk no more debate þen I þe bede þenne, "When þou wypped of my hede at a wap one." "By God," quoth Sir Gawayne, "I shall not begrudge thee thy will." "Nay, bi God," quod Gawayn, "þat me gost lante, I schal gruch þe no grwe, for grem þat falleȝ; 2252 Botstyȝtel þe vpon on strok, & I schal stonde stylle, & warp þe no wernyng, to worch as þe lykeȝ, no whare." Then he shows his bare neck, He lened with þe nek, & lutte, 2256 & schewed þat schyre al bare, & lette as he noȝt dutte, and appears undaunted. For drede he wolde not dare. ¹ welcon, in MS. ² truee in MS. ³ MS. þy þy.