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W$z l&ibersfoe literature Veriest 
 
 Ifcir #atoatn anti tfje <§reen lintgfjt 
 $ters tfje Pougfjman /// 
 
 TRANSLATED AND EDITED BY 
 
 K. G. T. WEBSTER 
 
 Assistant Professor of English 
 AND 
 
 W. A. NEILSON 
 
 Professor of English 
 Harvard University 
 
 BOSTON NEW YORK CHICAGO 
 
 HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 
 
71\ *^ 
 
 COPYRIGHT, I916 AND I9I7, 
 BY K. G. T. WEBSTER AND W. A. NEILSON 
 
 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 
 
 t£f)t JRfoerSfoe }3rcs3 
 
 CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS 
 V . S . A 
 
 MAR 17 1917 
 ©CU455933 
 
 1*s& ( 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 TRODUCTION 
 
 I. Sir Gawain and the Green Knight . . ,~,~~.~~~,~.~. v 
 
 II. Piers the Ploughman . ix 
 
 a GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT 1 
 
 IE VISION OF WILLIAM CONCERNING PIERS THE PLOUGHMAN . 30 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 I. Sir Gawain and the Green Knight 
 
 Sir Gawain and the Green Knight is the finest representative of a great cycle of 
 verse romances devoted wholly or principally to the adventures of Gawain. Of 
 these there still survive in English a dozen or so; in French — the tongue in which 
 romance most flourished — seven or eight more; and these, of course, are but a 
 fraction of what must once have existed. 1 No other knight of the Round Table 
 occupies anything like so important a place as Gawain in the literature of the middle 
 ages. He is the first mentioned of Arthur's knights, for about 1125, ten years before 
 Geoffrey of Monmouth dazzled the world with his revelation of King Arthur, 
 William of Malmesbury in his Chronicle of the Kings of England had told of the dis- 
 covery of Gawain's tomb in Ross, Wales, and had described him as Arthur's nephew 
 and worthy second. In all the early romances Gawain is peerless for utter courage 
 and courtesy. Where other knights quailed, Gawain was serene; where other 
 champions were beaten, Gawain won; and where no resolution, strength, or skill 
 could avail, Gawain succeeded by his kindness, his virtue, and his charming speech. 
 The strange knight in the Squire's Tale gave his message so politely, says Chaucer, 
 
 "That Gawain with his olde curteisye 
 Though he were come ageyn out of Fairye 
 Ne coude him nat amende with a word." 
 
 But in time other heroes became more popular than he, and in some of the French 
 prose romances of the thirteenth century Gawain's character was defaced that others 
 might appear to excel him; and Malory in his Morte Darthur (c. 1470), which is based 
 chiefly upon these later French romances, and Tennyson in his Idylls of the King, 
 which in turn is mostly based on Malory, have unfortunately perpetuated the 
 debased portrait. To get a glimpse of the real Gawain one should read, besides our 
 piece, such romances as the Carl of Carlisle, 2 Golagros and Gawain, 3 The Wedding of 
 Sir Gawain, 4 the Mule Sans Frein 6 and the episodes in Miss Weston's Sir Gawain 
 at the Grail Castle, and Sir Gawain and the Lady of Lys, in the attractive little series 
 of Arthurian Romances Unrepresented in Malory's Morte d' Arthur. 6 
 
 Gawain and the Green Knight has been preserved to us, like many another precious 
 
 1 The English romances were first collected by Sir Frederick Madden in his Syr Gawayne, edited for the Bannatyne 
 Club in 1839; the French have been described by G. Paris in the Histoire Littiraire de la France, vol. xxx, pp. 29-103. 
 Nothing like a complete study of Gawain has been made; the best accounts available are those of Miss J. L. Weston 
 in her Sir Gawain, London, 1897; of Schofield, English Literature from the Norman Conquest to Chaucer, p. 124; of 
 Nutt in the new Encyclopedia Britannica under "Gawain "; and of J. E. Wells in his recent Manual of the Writings 
 in Middle English, p. 51. 
 
 2 Edited by Madden, Syr Gawayne, p. 185; Bishop Percy's Folio Manuscript, ed. Hales and Furnivall, vol. ill, p. 275. 
 
 • Ed. Madden, p. 129, and Amours, Scottish Alliterative Poems, Scottish Text Society, 1897. 
 
 • Madden, p. 297; Bishop Percy's Folio Manuscript, vol. i, p. 103. 
 
 • Edited Meon, Nouveau Recueil de Fabliaux et Contes, 1823, vol. i, p. 1; R. T. Hill, Baltimore, 1911; Orlowski, 
 Paris, 1911. 
 
 « London, 1903 and 1907. 
 
vi INTRODUCTION 
 
 work — for example Beowulf — by a single lucky manuscript, Cotton Nero A. X. 
 of the British Museum. It is found there along with three other remarkable poems 
 of the same dialect and style, all in the same handwriting; and naturally the four 
 pass as the work of one author, although not all scholars are agreed on this point. 
 These three are Pearl (1212 lines), a highly finished elegy in an elaborate stanza, a 
 masterpiece of delicate beauty and craftsmanship; Patience, and Cleanness (or 
 Purity), of 500 and 1800 lines respectively, both written in the most powerful and 
 highly colored alliterative verse, the former telling the story of Jonah, the latter of 
 Belshazzar's feast and fate. 1 „ 
 
 These poems are the artistic culmination of what is called the alliterative revival 
 of the fourteenth century in England, the best-known example of which is Piers the 
 Ploughman. Other splendid pieces, worthy to stand beside these, are Winner and 
 Waster, The Parliament of Three Ages, and the Thornton Morte Arthure. 2 It is a sur- 
 prising and not well-explained phenomenon that after two centuries or so of the 
 short-lined, rhyming verse in stanzas or in couplets such as the young Chaucer 
 wrote — which is generally considered to be of French origin — there should sud- 
 denly appear a great bulk of poetry in the archaic unrhymed style of the Anglo- 
 Saxons. The great peculiarity of this verse is alliteration, the repeating of the same 
 letter or sound at the beginning of several words in a line — a device which has 
 never been given up in English poetry. A characteristic Anglo-Saxon line is, — 
 
 "JFadan ofer wealdas; wudu baer sunu." 
 To wade over the wolds; the son bare the wood. 
 
 Any vowel could alliterate with any other, thus, — 
 
 "Znnan ond wtan iren-bendum." 
 Inside and outside with iron-bands. 
 
 The chief accent fell on the alliterative syllables, of which there could be three, as in 
 the examples given, or two — these being the commonest types; or four, or none — 
 these rarer. The number of unaccented syllables was immaterial; but a line con- 
 sisted normally of four feet, with a csesural pause in the middle. In our poem we find 
 somewhat the same conventions, as in line 3, — 
 
 "The tulk that the trammes of tresoun there wrought"; 
 
 and line 27, — 
 
 "For-thi an aunter in erde I attle to schawe." 
 
 In our piece groups of such lines are concluded by an odd phrase and a little rhyming 
 stanza of five lines, often called a "bob and a wheel." This poetry was dignified, 
 
 1 The only easily accessible edition of Gawain and the Green Knight is that of R. Morris for the Early English Text 
 Society in 1864 — revised edition by Gollancz in 1897. Translations have been published by Miss Jessie L. Weston, 
 Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, in Arthurian Romances Unrepresented in Malory's Morte d' Arthur, London, 1898, 
 in prose; and in Romance, Vision, and Satire, Boston, 1912, in verse; by E. J. B. Kirtlan, London, 1912; and by C. M. 
 Lewis, New Haven, Conn., 1913 — the last a very free, entertaining fantasy on the original theme. The other three 
 poems were edited by Morris for the Early English Text Society in Early English Alliterative Poems, 1864 (several 
 subsequent editions). Pearl has been well edited, with a valuable introduction, by C. G. Osgood in the Belles- Lettres 
 Series, 1906; and by I. Gollancz, London, 1907; Patience by H. Bateson, Manchester, 1912. 
 
 * The first two were edited together by Gollancz for the Roxburghe Club in 1897; the Parliament, separately, 
 Oxford, 1915; the Morte Arthure by Perry and Brock for the Early English Text Society, and by Miss M. M. Banks, 
 London, 1900; translation of the last by A. Boyle in Everyman's Library. 
 
INTRODUCTION vii 
 
 strong, resonant, and in skillful hands apt for stirring deeds and rich, highly colored 
 description; but it was the alliteration, probably, which tempted to use words in a 
 forced sense, and to invent odd and fanciful terms — at any rate, these northern and 
 Scottish poets were very much given to that sort of thing. Of course, the fact that 
 they wrote with extreme virtuosity in a richly worded dialect, strange to us heirs of 
 a more southern speech, has much to do with this effect. This poetry flourished 
 chiefly in the north. Chaucer, naturally, was familiar with it, and makes his parson 
 say, — 
 
 " But trusteth wel, I am a Southren man, 
 I can nat geste — rum, ram, ruf — by lettre, 
 Ne, God wot, rym holde I but litel bettre; " 
 
 which rather sounds as if Chaucer had meant to have an alliterative poem precede 
 the Parson's Tale. 1 
 
 Our romance, and the rich field of folklore within which it lies have recently been 
 made the subject of a penetrating study by Professor G. L. Kittredge, 2 whose main 
 results may be thus summarized. Gawain and the Green Knight is doubtless, like 
 the great majority of mediaeval English romances, a translation from the French, 
 although the French original is now lost. To the author of this French poem is due 
 the happy combination of two fine old widely current stories. One of these, the 
 "Challenge," can be traced back to an elaborate Irish version of the year 1000 or 
 earlier — the manuscript containing it, the celebrated Book of the Dun Cow, was 
 written about 1100. In this a supernatural being with a replaceable head tests the 
 hero's courage much as he does in our poem. In the other, the "Temptation," the 
 chosen hero, by resisting the seductive lady, is enabled to free the lady's husband 
 from an enchantment. Both these tales occur separately in mediaeval romances, 
 the former in the Book of Caradoc — a continuation of Chretien's Percival, 3 the Mule 
 SansFrein, Perlesvaus,* and Humbaut, b the latter in the Carl of Carlisle, the Chevalier 
 d, I'EpSe, 6 and elsewhere. The work of the brilliant French combiner was, like 
 numerous other French Arthurian romances of his period, a well-constructed and 
 pellucid narrative. It did not attain the moral depth of our poem, where Gawain's 
 virtues, the elaborateness and keenness of his temptation, and his repentance for 
 his slight fault, are more powerfully set forth. There is no reason to suppose that 
 the beautiful descriptions of wild nature were in the French poem; and very likely 
 the arming of the hero and the hunting were less elaborated there. It seems probable, 
 too, that our author has changed the motivation and the ending of the story; for in 
 his original it would be natural to suppose from the analogues that the Green Knight 
 enticed Gawain to his castle in order that this greatest of heroes might rid him of 
 his strange hue and giant form, and that, after Gawain had succeeded, the disen- 
 chanted knight accompanied him to Arthur's Court. The English author gave this 
 up, and invented another and weaker motivation, based on the well-known hatred of 
 Morgan la Fay for Queen Guinevere. It is the only blemish in the otherwise faultless 
 
 1 A learned discussion of alliterative verse may be found in J. Schipper's History of English Versification, Oxford, 
 1910, chapters II and III. 
 
 2 Cambridge, Harvard University Press, 1916. * Edited Potvin, Perceval, vol. m, p. 117. 
 
 4 Ditto, vol. i. s Edited StUrzinger and Breuer, Dresden, 1914. 
 
 8 Edited Meon, 1, 127; E. C. Armstrong, Baltimore, 1900. 
 
viii INTRODUCTION 
 
 construction that the reason here assigned for the Green Knight's visit to Arthur's 
 Court is Morgan's desire to frighten Guinevere out of her wits. 
 
 Another English version of our tale is found in Bishop Percy's Folio Manuscript. 
 This is a late romance of 516 lines, in six-line stanzas like the following: — 
 
 "He had a lady to his wiffe, 
 He loved her deerlye as his liffe, 
 She was both blyth and blee; 
 Because Sir Gawaine was stifle in stowre 
 She loved him privilye paramour, 
 And she never him see." 
 
 Most scholars regard the Ballad Green Knight, as it is often called, as a mere 
 working-over of the alliterative romance; but because the author of it has reverted 
 to a better and older sort of motivation — i.e., the love of the Green Knight's wife for 
 Gawain — and because he has likewise restored the presumably older features of the 
 Green Knight's becoming one of the Round Table, and for other reasons, some hold 
 that the Ballad Green Knight is derived from a form of the story older than our 
 romance; and that in this older form the Green Knight's wife was a fairy, who for 
 love of Gawain lured him to the other-world by this odd heading adventure. 1 
 
 It is also said in the Ballad Green Knight that it is because of this adventure of 
 Gawain's that the Knights of the Bath wear a lace about the neck until they have 
 won their spurs, or a lady takes it off. And after the alliterative romance in our 
 manuscript follows the motto of the Knights of the Garter — "Hony soyt qui mal 
 pence." Obviously, then, there has always been an effort to connect Gawain's green 
 lace with some chivalrous order in England, and such efforts still continue; but as 
 yet it has not been made to seem very probable that the writer of the present poem 
 had in mind anything of the kind. 2 
 
 Of our author we know only what can be deduced from his works. He must have 
 been a native of Lancashire or thereabouts, since he employs the North-West Mid- 
 land dialect, as it is called, and since he describes with so much accuracy and gusto 
 the wild scenery of the three north-western counties of England. None but a person 
 truly religious could have written a poem informed with so lofty a moral tone. 
 Perhaps no other writer of his age could have pictured the scenes between Gawain 
 and the lady without having them border either on the luscious or the coarse. And 
 only a man conversant with the highest society of his time, a man who had seen the 
 world, could describe with such loving wealth of detail the knightly trappings, the 
 merry evenings at the castle, and the stirring hunts. More elaborate guesses about 
 his personality may be found in the editions of Gollancz and Bateson. His work 
 appears to fall within the third quarter of the fourteenth century, a time when a 
 great number of French romances were being translated into English, and when 
 Wycliffe, Gower, Chaucer, and Langland were flourishing. 
 
 K. G. T. Webster. 
 
 1 This theory is set forth by Mr. J. R. Hulbert in Modern Philology, vol. xm, pp. 49 and 113. 
 1 The latest protagonist of this theory is Mr. Isaac Jackson in Anglia, vol. xxxvn, p. 393. The whole question 
 is sensibly reviewed by Mr. Hulbert in the last portion of his article. 
 
INTRODUCTION ix 
 
 II. Piers the Ploughman 
 
 The Vision of William concerning Piers the Ploughman is one of the most extraor- 
 dinary productions in English Literature. Of uncertain authorship, and com- 
 posed and revised at different times, it was based on no single model. Confused and 
 intricate in structure, belonging as a whole to no one literary type, it yet ranks with 
 the work of the methodical and voluminous Gower, and almost with that of Chaucer, 
 as a contribution to the understanding of the England of the fourteenth century. 
 
 The poem exists in forty-five known manuscripts 1 which differ greatly among 
 themselves. The variations are due in the first place to the fact that the work was 
 revised and extended on a large scale at least twice, and it is customary to distin- 
 guish three main versions: A, written about 1362 (2567 lines); B, about 1377 (7242 
 lines); and C, about 1393 or 1398-1399 (7357 lines). But the manuscripts are far 
 from falling neatly into these three groups. Not only do the last four passus or 
 cantos of A seem to have been written later than the prologue and the first eight, 
 and the last part of the twelfth by a certain John But, but many manuscripts repre- 
 sent either intermediate revisions or contamination of earlier with later versions. 
 
 Whether the original author is responsible for the revisions and additions is still 
 a matter of controversy, the solution of which is made harder by the difficulty of 
 arriving at a pure text of the several versions. The view commonly accepted until a 
 few years ago is that represented by Skeat in the Introduction of his Oxford edition 
 and by Jusserand in his Piers Plowman (1894). 2 These scholars regard B and C as 
 later revisions by the same author who composed A, and they explain the changes in 
 style and mode of thought as due to the maturing or decay of his powers. The 
 opposed view, brought into prominence by Manly in his article in the Cambridge 
 History of English Literature in 1908, regards the work as it now stands as showing 
 five hands: (1) A, prologue and passus 1-8; (2) A, passus 9-12, lines 1-56; (3) A, 
 passus 12, lines 57 to end (John But) ; (4) revision of A resulting in B; (5) revision of 
 B resulting in C. 3 
 
 The arguments by which these contrary opinions are supported are intricate and 
 varied, and cannot be explained without an elaborate analysis of the whole work. 
 The part of the poem (or collection of poems), however, which is printed in the 
 present volume is generally agreed to represent the work in its first form, and can 
 be studied without reference to the problems raised by the continuations. More- 
 over, these first two thirds of A are complete in themselves, and are distinctly superior 
 to the later parts in structure and coherence. 
 
 The authorship of the poem is as uncertain as the history of its growth. The 
 traditional ascription of it to a William Langland is based on notes written on vari- 
 
 1 Described by Skeat in his edition of the poem for the Early English Text Society, and in vol. n of his large 
 Clarendon Press edition, 1886. This edition contains all three texts. The work was first printed in 1550 by Robert 
 Crowley. 
 
 2 Translated by M. E. R. from Les Anglais au Moyen Age : I'tpopSe mystique de William Langland, by J. 3. 
 Jusserand, Paris, 1893. 
 
 3 For the main arguments on both sides of the question, see The Piers Plowman Controversy, Early English Text 
 Society, Original Series, Extra Issue 139, London, 1910 (published, 1912). 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 ous fifteenth-century manuscripts of the B and C texts, but these are not consistent 
 with one another, one giving the name as "Robert or William Langland," one as 
 "Willelmus de Langland," other three as "Willelmus W." It has been customary to 
 clothe this shadow of a name with details, presumed to be autobiographical, drawn 
 from the poem itself. But it is practically certain that these details and the figure of 
 the dreamer, Long Will, who has been identified with Langland, are merely parts 
 of the fiction, and are of no value as biographical evidence. 1 It is therefore no longer 
 necessary to encumber our memories with statements as to dates and places, since 
 such statements have no real historical basis. 
 
 ii 
 
 Piers Plowman, to use the common short title, is written in the alliterative verse 
 which had been the customary medium of Anglo-Saxon poetry, and which, as ex- 
 plained in the introduction to Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, had a period of 
 revival in the fourteenth century. The language, however, is closer to normal 
 fourteenth-century English than that of most contemporary alliterative poems. The 
 author, indeed, was at times led to avoid the obvious word by the necessities of 
 metre, but the absence of the additional difficulties of an intricate stanza relieved 
 him from a pressure that did much to render the work of his fellows contorted and 
 obscure. The present modernization attempts to retain as far as possible the alliter- 
 ative and accentual characteristics of the original. 
 
 In purpose the poem is didactic and satiric; in form it is a series of allegorical 
 visions. The author seeks to expose the sins and abuses of his time, and to instill the 
 religious principles which would reform these, both in the individual and in society. 
 Any work with such an aim is likely to emphasize the darker side of human nature, 
 and this has to be kept in mind in using Piers Plowman as a document for the history 
 of society. Though a severe critic of social and ecclesiastical conditions, the poet 
 cannot be regarded as a radical innovator with respect to institutions. He not only 
 accepts the division of society into classes, but finds the reform of abuses to lie in 
 each man's doing his duty in that sphere of life in which God has placed him. The 
 laborer is not urged to seek to rise above his class; and when the knight offers to 
 learn to plough, Piers recommends him to attend to his knight's business — to pro- 
 tect the church, to treat his tenants and workmen well, to keep down the game that 
 destroy farmers' crops, and to avoid dissipation. The author, though a reformer, is 
 no leveler, and his gospel is a gospel of work. 
 
 Structurally, the original poem consists of two visions, divided by a few lines in 
 which the dreamer awakes and falls asleep again. This device is an extremely com- 
 mon one in allegory, and serves the obvious purpose of affording a transition to a 
 world of symbols, serving notice that realistic standards of probability are not to be 
 applied. Common, too, is the figure of the interpreter, represented in the first vision 
 by Holy Church, who explains the allegorical signification of the dream. Our author, 
 however, avails himself of her services for a short time only. 
 
 The opening scene of the first vision presents allegorically this world as a field 
 lying between heaven and hell. It is populated by specimens of various classes, all 
 
 1 See A. E. Jack, "The Autobiographical Elements in Piers Plowman," Journal of Germanic Philology, vol. in, 
 pp. 393-414. 
 
INTRODUCTION xi 
 
 engaged in characteristic occupations. The only personification here is Holy Church, 
 who introduces the main action of the first vision, the marriage of Meed. In this the 
 allegorical element is much more prominent, and involves both action and actors. 
 The attempt to marry Meed to Falsehood signifies the effort to make permanent 
 the corrupt use of money, and the counter-proposal to marry her to Conscience 
 signifies the establishing of a system of just rewards. 
 
 The second vision (v-vn) has two parts; one in which Conscience and Repentance 
 preach so effectively as to bring about the conversion of a series of characters typi- 
 fying the seven deadly sins; 1 the other in the form of a pilgrimage to seek Truth. In 
 the former the delineation of the sinners gives occasion for the most vivid picturing 
 of contemporary manners to be found in any of the versions of the poem, that of 
 the Glutton being especially notable. In the latter the device of the allegorical pil- 
 grimage, already familiar in French literature and destined to produce three hundred 
 years later the greatest of English religious allegories, is probably used for the first 
 time in English. In the course of the pilgrimage another convention is introduced 
 — an allegorical castle with personifications in charge of the various offices. 
 
 But though the main structure is that of the allegorical vision, there are many 
 passages which are not allegorical at all. Some of these consist of direct realistic 
 description of human nature or social conditions, others are long religious or moral 
 discussions. Though these last at times become wearisome, they are all interesting 
 to the student of the thought of the time; and no less than the more vivid pictures 
 are they suffused with the intense earnestness and sincerity which lift this poem 
 to a distinguished place in satirical and didactic literature. 
 
 W. A. Neilson. 
 
 1 Wrath is missing; as Manly supposes, by an accident to the manuscript. He is present in B and C. 
 
SYR GAWAYN AND THE GRENE KNY^Ti 
 
 [FYTTE THE FIRST] 
 I 
 
 SipEN 2 pe sege & pe assaut watj sesed at Troye, 
 
 !>e borj brittened & brent to bronde} & askej, 
 >e tulk pat pe trammes of tresoun per wrojt, 
 Vat} tried for his tricherie, pe trewest on erthe ; 
 Hit watj Ennias pe athel, & his highe kynde, 
 t>at sipen depreced prouinces, 3 & patrounes bicome 
 Welneje of al pe wele in pe west iles, 
 Fro riche Romulus to Rome ricehis hym swype, 
 With gret bobbaunce pat burje he biges vpon fyrst, 
 & neuenes hit his aune nome, as hit now hat ; 
 Ticius (turnes) to Tuskan, & teldes bigynnes ; 
 Langaberde in Lumbardie lyftes vp homes ; 
 & fer ouer pe French flod Felix Brutws 
 On mony bonkkes ful brode Bretayn he settej, 
 wyth wynne ; 4 
 Where werre, & wrake, & wonder, 
 Bi sype} hatj wont per-inne, 
 & oft bope blysse & blunder 
 Ful skete hatj skyf ted synne. 
 
 II 
 
 Ande quen 5 pis Bretayn watj bigged bi pis burn rych, 
 Belde bredden per-inne, baret fat lofden, 
 In mony turned 6 tyme tene pat wro3ten ; 
 Mo ferlyes on pis folde ban fallen here oft 
 t>en in any oper pat I wot, syn pat ilk tyme. 
 Bot of alle pat here bult of Bretaygne kynges 
 Ay watj Arthur pe hendest, as I haf herde telle ; 
 For-pi an aunter in erde I attle to schawe, 
 J>at a selly in sijt summe men hit holden, 
 & an outtrage awenture of Arthurej wonderej, 
 If $e wyl lysten pis laye bot on littel quile, 
 I schal telle hit, as-tit, as I in toun herde, 
 with tonge ; 
 
 As hit is stad & stoken, 
 
 In stori stif & stronge, 
 
 With lei letteres loken, 6 
 
 In londe so hatj ben longe. 
 
 1 The symbol 5 is the Anglo-Saxon form of g, and is a modification of the Latin letter. It was retained by later 
 scribes principally for the guttural gh as in knytf, for the y-sound at the beginning of a word, as in ^et, and for the 
 final 2-sound, as in aske$. The spellings ival^, hal^ for was and has are peculiar. 
 
 2 p is the Anglo-Saxon symbol for th, which lasted till the 15th century, and as y till later— e. g., in ye = the. 
 It is the old rune " thorn." 3 u and v, originally the same symbol, are both written u. 
 
 1 These " bobs " especially, and the rhyming 4-line " wheel " at the end of the stanzas, are often almost mean- 
 ingless, and difficult to translate. 6 The qu is the Northern way of writing Anglo-Saxon hw, our wh. 
 6 Such " conceited," " precious " or far-fetched terms and tags are characteristic of the later alliterative verse. 
 
SYR GAWAYN AND THE GRENE KNY3T 
 
 in 
 
 bis kyng lay at Camylot vpon kryst-masse, 
 With mony luflych lorde, lede} of pe best, 
 Rekenly of pe rounde table alle po rich brewer, 
 "With rych reuel oryjt, & rechles merpes; 
 J>er tourneyed tulkes bi-tymej ful mony, 
 Justed ful Joule" pyse gyntyle knijtes, 
 Sypen kayred to pe court, caroles to make. 
 For per pe fest wat} ilyche ful fiften dayes 
 With alle pe mete & pe mirpe fat men coupe a-vyse; 
 Such glaumande gle glorious to here, 
 Dere dyn vp-on day, daunsyng on ny^tes, 
 Al \vat3 hap upon ke}e in halle} & chambrej, 
 Witb lorde3 & ladies, as leuest him pojt; 
 With all pe wele of pe worlde pay woned per samen, 
 J?e most kyd knyjtes vnder krystes seluen, 
 & pe louelokkest ladies pat euer lif haden, 
 & he pe comlokest ky?)g pat pe court haldes; 
 For al wat} pis fayre folk in her first age, 
 on sille; 
 
 Ie hapnest vuder heuen, 
 
 Kyng hyjest mon of wylle, 
 
 Hit were now gret nye to neuen 
 
 So hardy a here on hille. 
 
 IV 
 
 Wyle nw }er wat} so }ep pat hit wat nwe cnmmen, 
 ]?at day doubble on pe dece watj pe douth serued, 
 Fro pe kyng wat} cummen -with knjtes in to pe halle, 
 l?e cnauntre of pe chapel cheued to an ende; 
 Loude crye wat3 per kest of clerkej & oper, 
 Nowel nayted o-newe, neuened ful ofte; 
 & sypen riche forth riumen to reche honde-selle, 
 }e}ed }eres }iftes on hi}, 3elde hem bi bond, 
 Debated busyly aboute po giftes; 
 Ladies lajed ful londe, po pay lost haden, 
 & he pat wan wat} not worth, pat may }e wel trawe. 
 Alle pis mirpe pay maden to pe mete tyme; 
 When pay had waschen, worpyly pay wenten to sete, 
 t>e best burne ay abof, as hit best semed; 
 Whene Guenore ful gay, grayped in pe myddes, 
 Dressed on pe dere des, dubbed al aboute, 
 Smal sendal bisides, a selure hir ouer 
 Of tryed Tolouse, of Tars tapites in-noghe, 
 " at were enbrawded & beten wyth pe best gemmes, 
 at myjt be preued of prys wyth penyes to buy, 
 in daye; 
 e comlokest to discrye, 
 er glent vrith ) r }en gray; 
 
 A semloker pat euer he syje, 
 
 Soth mojt no mon say. 
 
SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT 
 
 FYTTE THE FIRST 
 
 1. After the siege and the assault had 
 ceased at Troy, the city been destroyed 
 and burni'd to brands and ashes, the warrior 
 who wrought there the trains of treason 
 was tried for his treachery, the truest on 
 earth. 1 This was Aeneas the noble; he and 
 his high kindred afterwards conquered 
 provinces, and became patrons of well nigh 
 all the wealth in the West Isles. As soon 
 as rich Romulus turns him to Rome, with 
 great pride he at once builds that city, and 
 names it with his own name, which it now 
 has; Ticius turns to Tuscany and founds 
 dwellings ; Longobard raises homes in Lom- 
 bard)' ; and, far over the French flood, Felix 
 Brutus establishes Britain joyfully on many 
 broad banks, where war and waste and 
 wonders by turns have since dwelt, and 
 many a swift interchange of bliss and woe. 
 
 2. And when this Britain was founded by 
 this great hero, bold men loving strife bred 
 therein, and many a time they wrought 
 destruction. More strange things have hap- 
 pened in this land since these Hays than in 
 any other that I know; but of all the Brit- 
 ish kings that built here, Arthur was ever 
 the most courteous, as I have heard fell. 
 Therefore, I mean to tell of an adventure 
 in the world, which some count strange and 
 extraordinary even among the wonders of 
 Arthur. If ye will listen to this lay but a 
 little while, I will tell it forthright as I 
 heard it told in town, as it is set down in 
 story that cannot be changed, long written 
 in the land in true words. 
 
 3. This King lay royally at Camelot at 
 Christmas tide with many fine lords, the 
 best of men, all the rich brethren of the 
 Round Table, with right rich revel and 
 careless mirth. There full many heroes 
 
 1 Construction clear, though sense odd. Antenorand 
 Aeneas were the traitors who in the mediaeval story of 
 Troy handed over the city to the Greeks. Antenor re- 
 mained unpopular, but Aeneas suffered no loss of repu- 
 tation. See Lydgate's Troy Book in the publications of 
 the Early English Text Soc, Bk. IV, 1. 4539 f. 
 
 tourneyed betimes, jousted full gaily; 
 then returned these gentle knights to the 
 court to make carols. 2 For there the feast 
 was held full fifteen days alike with all 
 the meat and the mirth that men could de- 
 vise. Such a merry tumult, glorious to hear; 
 joyful din by day, dancing at night. All 
 was high joy in halls and chambers with 
 lords and ladies as pleased them best. With 
 all the weal in the world they dwelt there 
 together, the most famous knights save only 
 Christ, the loveliest ladies that ever had 
 life, and he, the comeliest of kings, who 
 holds the court. For all this fair company 
 were in their prime in the hall, the happiest 
 troop under heaven with the proudest of 
 kings. Truly it would be hard to name any- 
 where so brave a band. 
 
 4. When New Year was fresh and but 
 newly come, the court was served double on 
 the dais. As soon as the kingwith his knights 
 was come into the hall, the chanting in the 
 chapel came to an end; loud was the cry 
 there of clerks and others. Noel was cele- 
 brated anew, shouted full often; and after- 
 wards the great ones ran about to take 
 handsel; 3 called aloud for New Year's 
 gifts, paid them out briskly, busily dis- 
 cussed the gifts; ladies laughed full loud, 
 though they had lost; and he that won was 
 not wroth, that may ye well trow. All this 
 mirth they made till the meat time. When 
 they had washed, worthily they went to 
 their seats, the best man ever above, as it 
 best behoved. Queen Guinevere full beau- 
 teous was set in the midst, placed on the 
 rich dais adorned all about. Fine silk at the 
 sides, a canopy over her of precious cloth 
 of Toulouse, and tapestries of Tars, 4 that 
 were embroidered and set with the best 
 gems that money could buy. Truly no man 
 could say that he ever beheld a comelier 
 lady than she, with her dancing gray eyes. 
 
 5. But Arthur would not eat till all were 
 
 2 Dancing and singing in a ring. 
 ' New Year's gifts of good omen. 
 * Oriental figured stuff. 
 
SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT 
 
 served. He was so merry in his mirth, and 
 somewhat childlike in his manner; his life 
 pleased him well; he loved little either to 
 lie long or to sit long, so busied him his 
 young blood and his wild brain. And an- 
 other custom moved him also, that he 
 through chivalry had taken up; he would 
 never eat upon such a dear day before he 
 was told an uncouth tale of some adventur- 
 ous thing, of some great marvel that he 
 could believe, of ancient heroes, of arms, or 
 of other adventures; or unless some person 
 demanded of him a sure knight to join with 
 him in jousting, to incur peril, to risk life 
 against life, trusting each in the other, leav- 
 ing the victory to fortune. This was the 
 king's custom whenever he held court at 
 each goodly feast among his free company 
 in the hall. And so with undaunted face he 
 strides stoutly to his seat on that New Year, 
 making great mirth with everybody. 
 
 6. Thus the great king stands waiting be- 
 fore the high table, talking of trifles full 
 courteously. The good Gawain was placed 
 there beside Guinevere, and Agravain of 
 the Hard Hand sat on the other side, both 
 of them the king's sister's sons and full sure 
 knights. Bishop Baldwin at the top begins 
 the table, and Ywain, Urien's son, ate by 
 himself. These were placed on the dais and 
 honorably served, and after them many a 
 good man at the side tables. Then the 
 first course came in with blare of trumpets, 
 which were hung with many a bright ban- 
 ner. A new noise of kettle-drums with the 
 noble pipes, wild and stirring melodies wak- 
 ened the echoes; that many a heart heaved 
 full high at their tones. Dainties of precious 
 meats followed, foison of fresh viands, and 
 on so many dishes that it was difficult to 
 find place before the people to set on the 
 cloth the silverthat held the several courses. 
 Each man as he himself preferred partook 
 without hesitation. Every two x had twelve 
 dishes between them, good beer and bright 
 wine both. 
 
 7. Now will I tell you no more of their 
 service, for everybody mnst well under- 
 stand that there was no lack of opportunity 
 for the people to take their food. 2 Another 
 
 i It was extremely sumptuous having only two at a 
 mess ; i. e. only two sharing the same cup and platter. 
 
 2 It seems to make somewhat better sense if we trans- 
 pose, as has here been done, lines 132 and 133; other- 
 wise this passage means that a second course came in 
 heralded by new music. 
 
 noise full new suddenly drew nigh, for 
 scarcely had the music ceased a moment, 
 and the first course been properly served in 
 the court, than there burst in at the hall 
 door an awesome being, in height one of the 
 tallest men in the world; from the neck to 
 the waist so square and so thick was he, and 
 his loins and his limbs so long and so great, 
 that half giant I believed him to have been, 
 or, at any rate, the largest of men, and 
 withal the handsomest in spite of his bulk, 
 that ever rode; for though his back and 
 breast were so vast, yet his belly and waist 
 were properly slim ; and all his form accord- 
 ing, full fairly shaped. At the hue of his 
 noble face men wondered; he carried him- 
 self in hostile fashion and was entirely 
 green. 
 
 8. All green was this man and his cloth- 
 ing; a straight coat sat tight to his sides; a 
 fair mantle above, adorned within; the lin- 
 ing showed, with costly trimming of shining 
 white fur; and such his hood also, that was 
 caught back from his locks and lay on his 
 shoulders, the hem well stretched; 8 hose of 
 the same green, that clung to his calf; and 
 clean spurs under, of bright gold upon silk 
 bands richly barred,and shoes 4 on his shanks 
 as the hero rides. And all his vesture ver- 
 ily was clean verdure, both the bars of his 
 belt, and the other beauteous stones that 
 were set in fine array about himself and his 
 saddle, worked on silk. It would be too 
 difficult to tell the half of the trifles that 
 were embroidered there, with birds and 
 flies, with gay gauds of green, — the gold 
 ever in the middle; the pendants of the 
 poitrel, the proud crupper, the bits, — and 
 all the metal was enamelled; the stirrups 
 that he stood on were coloured the same, and 
 his saddle bow likewise, and his fine reins 5 
 that glimmered and glinted all of green 
 stones. The horse that he rode on was of 
 the same colour too, a green horse, great and 
 thick, a steed full stiff to guide, hi gay em- 
 broidered bridle, and one right dear to his 
 master. 
 
 9. This hero was splendidly dressed in 
 green ; and the hair of his head matched that 
 of his horse; 6 fair flowing locks enfolded 
 his shoulders ; a beard as big as a bush hung 
 
 » Translation doubtful. « Word doubtful. 
 
 * Our " reins" is a mere stop-gap. The MS. has the 
 puzzling shirtes. 
 
 6 Translating hors swete of the MS. as " horse's 
 suite." 
 
SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT 
 
 over his breast; and it, together with his 
 splendid hair that reached from his head, 
 was trimmed evenly all round above his 
 elbows, so that half his arms were caught 
 thereunder in the manner of a king's hood, 1 
 that covers his neck. The mane of that great 
 horse was much like it, very curly and 
 combed, with knots full many folded in with 
 gold wire ahout the fair green, — always 
 one knot of the hair, another of gold. The 
 tail and the forelock were twined in the 
 same way, and both bound with a band of 
 bright green, set with full precious stones 
 the whole length of the dock, and then tied 
 up with a thong in a tight knot; where rang 
 many bells full bright of burnished gold. 
 Such a steed in the world, such a hero as 
 rides him, was never beheld in that hall be- 
 fore that time. His glances were like bright 
 lightning, so said all that saw him. It 
 seemed as if no man could endure under his 
 blows. 
 
 10. He had neither helm nor hauberk, 
 nor gorget, armour nor breastplate, nor 
 shaft nor shield to guard or to smite; but 
 in his one hand he had a holly twig, that is 
 greenest when groves are bare, and an axe 
 in his other, a huge and prodigious one, a 
 weapon merciless almost beyond descrip- 
 tion; the head had the vast length of an ell- 
 yard, the blade all of green steel and of 
 beaten gold; the bit 2 brightly burnished, 
 with a broad edge, as well shaped for cut- 
 ting as sharp razors. The stern warrior 
 gripped it by 3 the steel of its stout staff, 
 which was wound with iron to the end of 
 the wood and all engraven with green in 
 beauteous work. A lace was lapped about 
 it, that was fastened at the head, and tied 
 up often along the helve, with many pre- 
 cious tassels attached on rich embroidered 
 buttons of the bright green. This hero turns 
 him in and enters the hall, riding straight 
 to the high dais, fearless of mischief. He 
 greeted never a one, but looked loftily 
 about, and the first word that he uttered 
 was: " Where is the governor of this com- 
 pany ? Gladly I would see that hero and 
 speak with him." 
 
 He cast his eye on the knights and rode 
 
 1 The word capados here translated "hood" is 
 rare. It might conceivably mean " camail," a protec- 
 tion of mail for the neck and part of the head, that 
 hung down from or under the helm. 
 
 « " Bit " is still used for the cutting edge of an axe. 
 
 * Not in the MS. 
 
 fiercely up and down, stopped and gan pon- 
 der who was there the most renowned. 
 
 11. All gazed fixedly on the man, for 
 everybody marvelled what it might mean, 
 that a knight and a horse could have such 
 a colour: as green grown as the grass, and 
 greener, it seemed; shining brighter than 
 green enamel on gold. All were amazed who 
 stood there, and stalked nearer to him, with 
 all the wonder in the world what he would 
 do; for many marvels had they seen, but 
 such never before. Therefore for phantom 
 and faery the folk there deemed it; and for 
 that reason many a noble warrior was slow 
 to answer, and all were astonished at his 
 voice and sat stone still in a deep silence 
 through the rich hall. Their voices 4 sank as 
 though they had suddenly fallen asleep. I 
 deem, however, that it was not all for fear, 
 but somewhat for courtesy. But now let 
 him to whom all defer undertake the wight. 
 
 12. Then Arthur before the high dais 
 beheld that adventure, and saluted the 
 stranger properly, for never was he afraid, 
 and said, "Sir, welcome indeed to this 
 place. I am called Arthur, the head of this 
 hostel. Light courteously down and tarry, 
 I pray thee; and whatso thy will is we 
 shall wit after." 
 
 " Nay, so help me he that sits on high," 
 quoth the hero. " To dwell any time in 
 this house was not my errand; but because 
 the fame of this people is lifted up so high, 
 and thy town and thy mien are held the best, 
 the stoutest in steel gear on steeds to ride, 
 the wightest and the worthiest of the world's 
 kind, and proved opponents in other proper 
 sports; and here courtesy is known, as I 
 have heard tell, — it is this that has enticed 
 me hither certainly at this time. You may 
 be sure by this branch that I bear here that 
 I pass in peace and seek no quarrel ; for if I 
 had set out with a company in fighting fash- 
 ion, I have a hauberk at home and a helm 
 both, a shield and a sharp spear shining 
 bright, and other weapons to wield, I ween 
 well also; but since I wished no war, my 
 weeds are softer. Now if thou be as bold as 
 all men tell, thou wilt grant me graciously 
 the game that I ask." 
 
 Arthur knew how to answer, and said: 
 " Sir courteous knight, if it is battle that 
 thou cravest, thou shalt not fail of a fight 
 here." 
 
 « Possibly "faces" or "looks." 
 
SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT 
 
 13. "Nay, I demand no fight; in faith I 
 tell thee there are but beardless children 
 about on this bench. If I were hasped in 
 arms on a high steed there is no man here 
 to match me, their might is so weak. There- 
 fore I crave in this court a Christmas game, 
 for it is Yule and New Year, and here are 
 many gallants. If there be a man in this 
 house who holds himself so hardy, is so 
 bold in his blood, so rash in his head, that 
 he dares stiffly strike one stroke for an- 
 other, I shall give him as my gift this rich 
 gisarm, this axe, that is heavy enough, to 
 handle as he likes; and I shall abide the 
 first blow as bare as I sit. If any warrior 
 be wight enough to try what I propose, let 
 him leap lightly to me and take this weapon 
 — I quit-claim it forever, let him keep it 
 as his own — and I shall stand him a stroke 
 firmly on this floor. At another time, by our 
 Lady, thou wilt grant me the boon of deal- 
 ing him another blow; I will give him re- 
 spite of a twelvemonth and a day. Now hie, 
 and let us see quickly if any herein dare 
 say aught." 
 
 14. If he had astonished them at first, 
 stiller were then all the retainers in hall, 
 the high and the low. The warrior on his 
 steed settled himself in his saddle, and 
 fiercely his red eyes he reeled about ; bent 
 liis thick brows, shining green ; and waved 
 his beard, awaiting whoso would rise. When 
 none would answer him he coughed aloud, 
 stretched himself haughtily and began to 
 speak; "What! Is this Arthur's house," 
 said the hero then, " that is famous through 
 bo many realms ? Where is now your pride 
 aad your conquests, your fierceness, and 
 your wrath and your great words? Now is 
 the revel and tne renown of the Round 
 Table overcome by the word of a single 
 man; for all tremble for dread without a 
 blow shown." 
 
 With this he laughed so loud that the 
 lord grieved ; the blood shot for shame into 
 his fair face. He waxed as wroth as the wind; 
 and so did all that were there. The king so 
 keen of mood then stood near that proud 
 man. 
 
 15. " Sir," said he, " by heaven thy asking 
 is foolish ; and as thou hast demanded folly, 
 it behooves thee to find it. I know no man 
 that is aghast of thy great words. Give me 
 now thy gisarm, for God's sake, and I will 
 grant thy boon that thou hast bidden." 
 
 Quickly he leaped to him and caught at 
 his hand ; and the other alights fiercely on 
 foot. Now Arthur has his axe, and grips 
 the helve; he whirls it sternly about as if 
 he meant to strike with it. The bold stran- 
 ger stood upright before him, higher than 
 any in the house by a head and more; with 
 stein cheer he stood there, stroked his 
 beard, and with cool countenance drew 
 down his coat, no more afraid or dismayed 
 for Arthur's great strokes than if some one 
 had brought him a drink of wine upon the 
 bench. 
 
 Gawain, that sat by the queen, turned to 
 the king: " I beseech now with all courtesy 
 that this affair might be mine." 
 
 16. " Would ye, worthy lord," quoth 
 Gawain to the king, " bid me step from 
 this bench and stand by you there, — that I 
 without rudeness might leave this table, 
 and that my liege lady liked it not ill — I 
 would come to your help before your rich 
 court; for methinks it is obviously unseemly 
 that such an asking is made so much of in 
 your hall, even though ye yourself be will- 
 ing to take it upon you, while so-many bold 
 ones sit about you on the bench; than whom, 
 I ween, none under heaven are higher of 
 spirit, nor more mighty on the field where 
 strife is reared. I am the weakest, I know, 
 and feeblest of wit; and to tell the truth 
 there would be the least loss in my life. I 
 am only to praise forasmuch as ye are my 
 uncle; no other nobility than your blood 
 know I in my body. And since this adven- 
 ture is so foolish, it belongs not to you; I 
 have asked it of you first ; give it to me. 
 Let this great court decide 1 if I have not 
 spoken well." 
 
 The heroes took counsel together and 
 they all gave the same advice, — to free 
 the crowned king and give the game to 
 Gawain. 
 
 17. Then the king commanded Gawain 
 to rise from the table; and he right quickly 
 stood up and made himself ready, kneeled 
 down before the king and took the weapon; 
 and Arthur lovingly left it to him, lifted up 
 his hand and gave him God's blessing, and 
 gladly bade him be hardy both of heart and 
 of hand. " Take care, cousin," quoth the 
 king, "that thou give him a cut; and if 
 thou handle him properly, I readily believe 
 
 > This word is supplied. Perhaps " speak " would be 
 more conservative. 
 
SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT 
 
 that thou shalt endure the blow which he 
 shall give after." 
 
 Gawain goes to the man with gisarm in 
 hand; and he boldly awaits him, shrinking 
 never a whit. Then speaks to Sir Gawain 
 f the knight in the green; " Rehearse we our 
 agreement before we go farther. First I 
 conjure thee, hero, how thou art called, 
 that thou tell me it truly, so that I may 
 believe it." 
 
 "In good faith," quoth the knight, 
 "Gawain am I called, who give you this 
 buffet, whatever befalls after; and at this 
 time twelvemonth I am to take from thee 
 another with whatever weapon thou wilt, 
 and from no wight else alive." 
 
 The other answers again, " Sir Gawain, 
 so thrive I as I am heartily glad that thou 
 shalt give this blow." 
 
 18. " By Gog," quoth the green knight, 
 "Sir Gawain, it delights me that I am to 
 get at thy fist what 1 have requested here; 
 
 *' and thou hast readily and truly rehearsed 
 the whole of the covenant that I asked of 
 the king, save that thou shalt assure me, 
 sir, bv thy troth, that thou wilt seek me 
 thyself wheresoever thou thinkest I may 
 be found upon the earth, and fetch for thy- 
 self such wages as thou dealest me today 
 before this rich company." 
 
 I " Where should I seek thee ? " quoth 
 Gawain. "Where is thy place? I know 
 never where thou livest, by him that 
 wrought me; nor do I know thee, knight, 
 thy court, nor thy name. But tell me truly 
 the way and how thou art called, and I will 
 use all my wit to win my way thither, — 
 and that I swear thee, for a sooth, and by my 
 sure troth." 
 
 <* " New Year will suffice for that ; no more 
 is needed now," quoth the man in green to 
 Gawain the courteous. "To te'l the truth, 
 after I have received thy tap, and thou hast 
 smitten me well, I shall promptly inform 
 thee of my house and my home and mine 
 own name. Then thou mayest inquire about 
 my journey and hold promise ; and if I speak 
 no speech, then thou speedest the better, for 
 thou mayest linger at ease in thy land and 
 seek no further. Take now thy grim tool to 
 thee and let us see how thou knockest." 
 
 " Gladly, sir, for sooth," quoth Gawain as 
 he strokes his axe. 
 
 19. The green knight on the ground pre- 
 pared himself properly. With the head a 
 
 little bowed he disclosed the flesh. His long, 
 lovely locks he laid over his crown, and let 
 the naked nape of his neck show for the 
 blow. Gawain gripped his axe and gathered 
 it on high; the left foot he set before on 
 the ground, and let the axe light smartly 
 down on the naked flesh, 1 so that the sharp 
 edge severed the giant's bones, and shrank 
 through the clear flesh 2 and sheared it in 
 twain, till the edge of the brown steel bit 
 into the ground. The fair head fell from 
 the neck to the earth, and many pushed it 
 with their feet where it rolled forth. The 
 blood burst from the body and glistened 
 on the green. Yet never faltered nor fell 
 the hero for all that; but stoutly he started 
 up with firm steps, and fiercely he rushed 
 forth where the heroes stood, caught his 
 lovely head, and lifted it up straightway. 
 Then he turned to his steed, seized the bri- 
 dle, stepped into the steel bow and strode 
 aloft, holding the head in his hand by the 
 hair; and as soberly the man sat in his sad- 
 dle as if no mishap had ailed him, though 
 he was headless on the spot. He turned his 
 trunk about — that ugly body that bled. 
 Many a one of them thought that he had 
 lost Lis reason. 
 
 20. For he held the head straight up in 
 his hand; turned the face toward the highest 
 on the dais; and it lifted up the eyelids and 
 looked straight out, and spoke thus much 
 with its mouth, as ye may now hear: — 
 "Look Gawain, that thou be ready to go 
 as thou hast promised, and seek loyally, 
 hero, till thou find me; as thou hast prom- 
 ised in this hall in the hearing of these 
 knights. To the green chapel go thou, I 
 charge thee, to receive such a blow as thou 
 hast dealt. Thou deservest to be promptly 
 paid on New Year's morn. 3 As the knight 
 of the green chapel many men know me; 
 therefore, if thou strivest to find me, thou 
 shalt never fail. And so come, or it be- 
 hooves thee to be called recreant." 
 
 With a wild rush he turned the reins, 
 and flew out at the hall door — his head in 
 his hand — so that the fire of the flint flew 
 from the foal's hoofs. To what country he 
 vanished knew none there; no more than 
 they wist whence he was come. The king 
 and Gawain roared with laughter at that 
 
 1 Some such word has to be supplied after naked. 
 
 2 " Grease " in the original. 
 
 > Morris's punctuation of this passage has been 
 altered. 
 
8 
 
 SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT 
 
 green man; but this adventure was reck- 
 oned a marvel among men. 
 
 21. Though the courteous king wondered 
 in his heart, he let no semblance be seen, 
 but said aloud to the comely queen with 
 courteous speech, " Dear dame, today be 
 never dismayed ; well becoming are such 
 tricks at Christmas, in lack of entertain- 
 ment, to laugh and sing about among these 
 pleasant carols of knights and ladies. Never- 
 theless I may well go to my meat, for I can 
 not deny that I have seen a marvel." He 
 glanced at Sir Gawain and said cheerfully, 
 "Now, sir, hang up thine axe; it has hewn 
 enough." And it was put above the dais to 
 hang on the tapestry where all men might 
 marvel at it, and by it avouch the wonder- 
 ful happening. Then they turned to the 
 board, these heroes together — the king and 
 the good knight — and the keen men served 
 them double of all dainties, as was most 
 fitting; with all manner of meat, and min- 
 strelsy both. They spent that day in joy 
 until it came to an end. Now take care, 
 Sir Gawain, that thou blench not for the 
 pain to prosecute this adventure that thou 
 hast taken on hand. 
 
 FYTTE THE SECOND 
 
 1. This hansel of adventures had Arthur 
 at the beginning, in the young year, since he 
 yearned to hear boasting. Although there 
 was little news when they went to their 
 seats, now they are provided with stern 
 work, 1 their hands quite full. Gawain was 
 glad to begin those games in the hall; but 
 it would not be surprising if the end were 
 heavy; for though men be merry in mind 
 when they have much drink, yet a year runs 
 full swiftly, and yields never the same ; the 
 beginning full seldom matches the end. And 
 so this Yule went by, and the year after it, 
 each season in turn following the other. 
 After Christmas came the crabbed Lent, that 
 tries the flesh with fish and more simple 
 food. But then the weather of the world 
 quarrels with winter, and though the cold 
 still clings, the clouds lift; copiously de- 
 scends the rain in warm showers, and falls 
 upon the fair earth. Flowers show there; 
 green are the garments both of fields and of 
 groves; birds hurry to build, and lustily 
 
 i Mori'is's punctuation of tbia passage has been 
 changed. 
 
 they sing for the solace of the soft summer, 
 that follows thereafter. Blossoms swell into 
 bloom in rows rich and rank; and lovely 
 notes are heard in the beauteous wood. 
 
 2. After the season of summer with the 
 soft winds, when Zephyrus blows on seeds 
 and herbs, happy is the plant that waxes 
 then, when the dank dew drops from the 
 leaves, to await the blissful glance of the 
 bright sun. But then harvest hastens and 
 hardens it soon: warns it to wax fidl ripe 
 against the winter. He drives with drought 
 the dust to rise, — from the face of the earth 
 to fly full high. The wild wind of the wel- , 
 kin wrestles with the sun. The leaves fall 
 from the bough and light on the ground. 
 The grass becomes all gray that erst was 
 green. Then all ripes and rots that which 
 formerly flourished; and thus runs the year 
 in yesterdays many; and winter returns 
 again without asking any man,' 2 till the 
 Michelmas moon has come in wintry wise. 
 Then thinks Gawain full soon of his anxious ' 
 voyage. 
 
 3. Yet till Allhallows day with Arthur 
 he lingers; and Arthur made a feast on that 
 festival for the hero's sake, with great and 
 gay revel of the Round Table. Knights full 
 courteous and comely ladies all for love of 
 that man were in sorrow; but nevertheless 
 they spoke only of mirth; and many a joy- , 
 less one there made jests for bis gentle sake. 
 After meat he mournfully addresses his 
 uncle, and speaks of his passage, and openly 
 he says — " Now, liege lord of my life, leave 
 
 I ask of you. Ye know the" cost of this 
 case ; I do not care to tell you even a trifle 
 of its dangers; 3 but I am ready to start for 
 the fray no later than tomorrow morn, to 
 seek the man in the green, as God will v 
 guide me." 
 
 Then the best of the castle gathered to- 
 gether, Ywain and Erec, and others full 
 many, Sir Dodinel de Sauvage, the Duke 
 of Clarence, Lancelot and Lyonel and Lucan 
 the Good, Sir Bors and Sir Bedever, big 
 men both, and many other proud ones, with 
 Mador de la Port. All this company of the 
 court came nearer to the king, to counsel 
 the knight, with care at their hearts. There 
 was much deep grief felt in the hall that 
 so worthy a one as Gawain should go on 
 that errand, to endure a sorry dint and 
 
 * Passage a bit vague. 
 
 a Morris's punctuation altered. 
 
SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT 
 
 deal none bimself with his brand. But the 
 knight ever made good cheer, and said, 
 " Why should I swerve from stern and 
 strange destiny ? What can a man do but 
 9 try?" 
 
 4. He lingered there all that day, and on 
 the morn made ready. Early he asked for 
 his arms, and they were all brought. First 
 a carpet of Toulouse was stretched over the 
 floor, and much was the gilt gear that 
 gleamed upon it. The brave man stepped 
 thereon and handled the steel, clad in a 
 doublet of costly Tars, and afterwards a 
 
 * well wrought hood, closed on top and bound 
 within with a glistening white fur. Then 
 they put the sabatons 1 upon the hero's feet, 
 lapped his legs in steel with fair greaves, to 
 which were attached well polished poleynes 2 
 fastened about his knees with knots of gold. 
 Fine cuisses then, that well enclosed his 
 thick, brawny thighs, they attached with 
 
 r thongs. Next the decorated burnie 3 of 
 bright steel rings upon precious stuff encased 
 the hero, and well burnished braces upon his 
 two arms, with elbow-pieces goodly and gay 
 and gloves of plate, and all the goodly gear 
 that might avail him at that time, with rich 
 coat armour, gold spurs well fastened, and 
 a sure brand girt about his side by a silken 
 sash. 
 
 * 5. When he was hasped in arms his har- 
 ness was rich ; the least latchet or loop 
 gleamed with gold. So, harnessed as he was, 
 he heard his mass, offered and adored at 
 the high altar. Then he came to the king 
 and his court; courteously took his leave of 
 lords and ladies; and they kissed him, and 
 convoyed him, entrusting him to Christ. By 
 
 > that time was Gringolet ready, and girt with 
 a saddle that gleamed full gaily with many 
 gold fringes; everywhere nailed anew, 
 prepared for that emergency. The bridle, 
 barred about, was bound with bright gold; 
 the decoration of the breastplate and of the 
 fine housings, the crupper and caparison, 
 accorded with the saddle-bow, and all was 
 adorned with rich red gold nails, that glit- 
 
 ■ tered and gleamed like the gleam of the sun. 
 Then he took the helm and quickly kissed 
 it. It was stoutly stapled and stuffed within; 
 it was high on his head, hasped behind, with 
 a light urison 4 over the ventail, 5 embroid- 
 ered and bound with the best gems on a 
 
 i steel shoes. ' knee pieces. 8 coat of mail. 
 
 ' scarf. s visor. 
 
 broad silken border; and birds on the seams 
 like painted popinjays 6 preening themselves 
 here and there; turtle-doves and true-loves 7 
 thickly interlaced. As many birds there 
 were as had been iu town for seven winters. 
 The circlet that surrounded his crown was 
 even more precious — a device of gleaming 
 diamonds. 
 
 6. Then they showed him the shield, that 
 was of sheer gules, with the pentangle 
 painted in pure gold. He took it by the 
 baldric and cast it about his neck; and it 
 became the hero passing fair. And why 
 the pentangle pertains to that noble prince 
 I mean to tell you, though it should delay 
 me. It is a sign that Solomon set formerly 
 as a token of truth, by its own right, for 
 it is a figure that holds five points, and 
 each line overlaps and locks in another; and 
 throughout it is endless; and the English 
 call it everywhere, as I hear, the endless 
 knot. Therefore it suits this knight and his 
 clear arms, forever faithful in five things, 
 and in each of them five ways. Gawain was 
 known for good and as refined gold, devoid 
 of every villainy, adorned with virtues. 
 Therefore, the new 8 pentangle he bore on 
 shield and coat, as the man most true of 
 speech and the knight gentlest of behaviour. 
 
 7. First, he was found faultless in his five 
 wits; and again the hero failed never in his 
 five fingers; and all his affiance in this world 
 was in the five wounds that Christ received 
 on the cross, as the creed tells; and where- 
 soever this man was hard bestead in the 
 mele'e his pious thought was in this above 
 all other things — to take all his strength 
 from the five joys that the courteous Queen 
 of Heaven had of her child. For this cause 
 the knight had her image comely painted in 
 the greater half of his shield, that when he 
 looked down thereupon, his courage never 
 abated. The fifth five that I find that the 
 hero used, were generosity and fellowship 
 above all things, his purity and his cour- 
 tesy that never swerved, and pity that 
 passes all qualities. These very five were 
 more surely set upon that warrior than upon 
 any other. Now all these 9 were established 
 fivefold in this knight, and each one was 
 fastened in another that had no end, and 
 they were fastened on five points that never 
 failed, nor met anywhere, nor sundered 
 
 » parrots. 
 
 e Should it be now t 
 
 1 true lover's knots. 
 
 » These five larger virtues. 
 
SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT 
 
 either, but finished always without end at 
 each corner, wherever the game began or 
 concluded. Therefore on his fair shield this 
 knot was painted royally with red gold upon 
 red gules. That is the true pentangle as 
 the people properly call it. Now was the 
 gay Gawain armed. He caught up his lance 
 right there, and with a good-day he went 
 for evermore. 
 
 8. He spurred his steed with the spurs 
 and sprang on his way so swiftly that the 
 stone struck out fire after him. All who 
 saw the gentle man sighed in heart, and the 
 heroes said all together to each other in their 
 love for that comely knight, " By Christ, it 
 is a shame that thou, hero, must be lost, who 
 art so noble of life. In faith it is not easy 
 to find his match upon the earth. To have 
 acted more warily would have been better 
 counsel; and to have made yon dear one a 
 duke; it would well become him to be a 
 brilliant leader of people here. This would 
 have been better than to have him utterly 
 destroyed, given over 1 to an elvish man for 
 mere boasting pride. Who ever knew any 
 king to take such counsel as to suffer knights 
 to be so tricked foraChristmasgame." Much 
 warm water welled from eyes when that 
 6eemly sire departed from the dwellings 
 that day. He made no stop, but wightly 
 went his way; many a tiresome path he 
 rode, as I heard the book tell. 
 
 9. Now rides this hero, Sir Gawain, 
 through the realm of Logres in God's be- 
 half, though to him it seemed no play. Oft 
 alone companionless he lodged at night in 
 places where he found not before him the 
 fare that he liked. No company had he but 
 his foal by friths and downs, nor nobody 
 but God to talk with by the way; till that 
 he approached nigh unto North Wales. He 
 kept all the isles of Anglesey on the left 
 side, and fared over the fords by the fore- 
 lands, over at the Holy Head, till he again 
 took land in the wilderness of Wirrel. There 
 dwelt but few that loved either God or man 
 with good heart. And ever as he fared he 
 asked of men that he met if they had heard 
 any talk of a green knight of the green 
 chapel in any spot thereabout, and all nicked 
 him with nay, that never in their life saw they 
 any man of such green hue. The knight took 
 strange roads by many a rough bank. His 
 cheer changed full oft ere he saw that chapel. 
 
 » The meaning of the verb ia doubtful. 
 
 10. Many a cliff he overclimbed in strange 
 countries; far sundered from his friends, 
 lonely he rode. At each ford or water 
 where the hero passed it were strange if he 
 found not a foe before him, and that so foul 
 and so fell that it behooved him to fight. 
 So many marvels in the mountains there the 
 man found that it were too tedious to tell 
 of the tenth part. Sometimes he warred 
 with serpents, and with wolves also, some- 
 times with savages that dwelt in the cliffs; 
 both with bulls and bears, and boars some- 
 times; and giants that assailed him from the 
 high fell. Had he not been doughty and 
 stern, and served God, doubtless he had been 
 dead and slain full oft. But the warfare 
 tried him not so much but that the winter 
 was worse, when the cold clear water shed 
 from the clouds, and froze ere it might fall 
 to the barren earth. Near slain with the 
 sleet he slept in his iron more nights than 
 enough on naked rocks, where clattering 
 from the crest the cold burn ran, and hung 
 high over his head in hard icicles. Thus in 
 peril and pain and plights full hard through 
 the country wanders this knight all alone 
 till Christmas Eve. At that tide to Mary 
 he made his moan that she might direct his 
 riding and lead him to some dwelling. 
 
 11. Merrily on the morn he rides by a 
 mount into a forest full deep, that was 
 strangely wild. High hills were on each 
 side, and woods beneath of hoar oaks full 
 huge, a hundred together. The hazel and 
 the hawthorn were twined all together, 
 covered everywhere with rough ragged 
 moss, with many unblithe birds upon bare 
 twigs that piteously piped there for pain of 
 the cold. The knight upon Gringolet rides 
 all alone under the boughs, through many a 
 moss and mire, mourning for his trials, lest 
 he should never survive to see the service of 
 that Sire who on that very night was born 
 of a lady to qnell our pain. And therefore 
 sighing he said : " I beseech thee, Lord, and 
 Mary, that is mildest mother so dear, for 
 some harbour where I might properly hear 
 mass and thy matins tomorrow. Meekly I 
 ask it, and thereto earnestly I pray my pater 
 and ave and creed." He rode in his prayer 
 and lamented for his misdeeds. Oft-times 
 he blessed himself, and said, " Christ's cross 
 speed me." 
 
 12. The hero had not crossed himself 
 more than thrice ere he was aware in the 
 
SIR GAWAIN AND THfi GREEN KNIGHT 
 
 wood of a dwelling on a hill, above a clear- 
 ing, on a mount, hidden under the boughs 
 of many a huge tree about the ditches; a 
 castle the comeliest that ever knight owned, 
 
 • set on a prairie, a park all about, with its 
 beautiful palace, pinnacled full thick, and 
 surrounded with many a tree for more than 
 two miles. The hero gazed at the castle on 
 that one side as it shimmered and shone 
 through the fair oaks. Then he humbly 
 doffed his helm and devoutly he thanked 
 Jesus and St. Julian — who are both gentle 
 — who courteously had directed him and 
 harkened to his cry. " Now bon hostel," 
 quoth the man, "I beseech you yet ! " Then 
 he spurs Gringolet with his gilt heels, and he 
 full fortunately takes the way to the chief 
 road, that soon brought the hero to the bridge- 
 end in haste. The bridge was securely lifted, 
 the gates locked fast ; the walls were well 
 arrayed ; no wind blast did it fear. 
 
 I 13. The hero that sat on his horse, abode 
 
 on the bank of the deep double ditch that 
 stretched to the place. The wall sank in the 
 water wondrous deep, and again a full huge 
 height it towered aloft, of hard hewn stone 
 up to the top courses, corbelled under the 
 battlement in the best manner ; and above 
 fine watch-towers ranged along, with many 
 good loop-holes that showed full clean. A 
 better barbican that hero never looked upon. 
 And farther within he beheld the high hall, 
 with towers set full thickly about, and fair 
 and wondrous high filioles with carved tops 
 cunningly devised. Chalk-white chimneys 
 enough he saw that gleamed full white on 
 the battlements. So many painted pinnacles 
 were set everywhere, built so thick among 
 
 k the crenellations of the castle, that it verily 
 appeared cut out of paper. Fair enough it 
 seemed to the noble knight on his horse if 
 he could only attain the shelter within, to 
 harbour in that hostel, while the holiday 
 lasted. He called, and soon there appeared 
 on the wall a right pleasant porter who took 
 his message and greeted the knight errant. 
 14. " Good sir," quoth Gawain, "would 
 you go my errand to the high lord of this 
 house to crave harbour? " 
 
 " Yea, by Peter," quoth the porter; "and 
 truly I trow that ye are welcome, sir, to 
 dwell while you like." 
 
 Then the man went again quickly, and 
 a crowd of folk with him, to receive the 
 knight. They let down the great draw and 
 
 eagerly poured out, and kneeled down on 
 their knees upon the cold earth to welcome 
 the hero as it seemed to them proper. They 
 opened up wide the broad gate for him and 
 he raised them courteously, and rode over 
 the bridge. Several attendants held his 
 saddle while he alighted, and afterwards 
 good men enough stabled his steed. Then 
 knights and squires came down to bring this 
 hero joyfully into the hall. When he lifted 
 up his helm people enough hurried to take 
 it at his hand, in order to serve the courte- 
 ous one; his sword and his shield they took 
 too. Then he greeted full courteously the 
 knights each one; and many a proud man 
 pressed there to honour that prince. All 
 hasped in his high weeds, they led him to 
 the hall, where a fair fire burned fiercely 
 upon the hearth. Then the lord of the 
 people came from his chamber to meet 
 courteously the man on the floor. He said, 
 " Ye are welcome to wield as you like what 
 is here ; all is your own to have at your will 
 and commandment." " Gramercy," quoth 
 Gawain. " Christ reward you for it." Like 
 glad heroes either folded the other in his 
 arms. 
 
 15. Gawain looked on the man who 
 greeted him so goodly, and thought it a bold 
 hero that owned the castle, a huge warrior 
 for the nonce, and of great age. Broad and 
 bright was his beard, and all beaver-hued. 
 Firm-gaited was he on his stalwart limbs; 
 withafaceas fierce as fire, and a free speech; 
 and to the hero he seemed well suited in- 
 deed to govern a nation of good people. 
 
 The lord turned to a chamber and 
 promptly commanded to give Gawain a 
 retinue to serve him in lowly wise; and 
 there were ready at his bidding men enough, 
 who brought him to a bright bower where 
 the bedding was curtains of pure silk with 
 clear gold hems, and covertures right curi- 
 ous with comely borders, adorned above 
 with bright fur. Curtains running on ropes, 
 red gold rings, tapestries of Toulouse and 
 Tars hung on the wall, and under foot on 
 the floor of the same pattern. There with 
 mirthful speeches the hero was despoiled of 
 his burnie and of his bright weeds. Quickly 
 men brought him rich robes that he might 
 pick and choose the best for his change. As 
 soon as he took one and was wrapped therein, 
 that sat upon him seemly with sailing skirts, 
 the hero by his visage verily seemed to well 
 
12 
 
 SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT 
 
 nigh every man in looks glowing and lovely 
 in all bis limbs; it seemed to them that 
 Christ never made a comelier knight. Wher- 
 ever in the world lie were, it seemed as if 
 he might be a prince without peer iu the 
 field where fell men fight. 
 
 16. A chair before tbe chimney, 1 where 
 charcoal burned, was prepared for Sir Ga- 
 wain richly with cloths and cushions, upon 
 counterpanes that were both fine. And then 
 a beauteous mantle was cast on tbe man, of a 
 brown fabric richly embroidered, and fairly 
 furred within with the best skins, all of 
 ermine; the hood of the same. And he sat 
 on that settle in seemly rich attire, and 
 warmed him thoroughly ; and then his cheer 
 mended. Soon a table was raised up on 
 trestles full fair, and set with a clean cloth 
 that showed clear white, napkins, salt-cel- 
 lar, and silver spoons. The hero washed 
 when he would and went to his meat. Men 
 served him seemly enough, — double fold 
 as was proper — with pottages various and 
 suitable, seasoned in the best manner; and 
 many kinds of fish, some baked in bread, 
 some broiled on the coals, some boiled, some 
 in sauces savoured with spices; and always 
 discourse so pleasant that it pleased the 
 warrior. Full freely and often the hero 
 called it a feast right courteously, when all 
 the retainers together praised him as cour- 
 teous. 2 " Do this penance now, and soon 
 things will be better ! " Right mirthful was 
 he for the wine that went to his head. 
 
 17. Then they questioned and inquired 
 sparingly in skilful queries put to tbe prince 
 himself, till he courteously acknowledged 
 that he was of the court which noble 
 Arthur holds alone, who is the rich, royal 
 king of the Round Table ; and that it was 
 Gawain himself that sits in tbe house, by 
 chance come for that Christmas. When tbe 
 lord had learned that he had that hero, he 
 laughed aloud, so dear it seemed to him; 
 and all the men in tbe castle made much 
 joy at appearing promptly in the presence 
 of him who contains in his owu person all 
 
 i In the old meaning of fireplace, fire-back, or grate. 
 
 ! Possibly the host, and not Gawain, is the subject of 
 this sentence, which then might be translated : "Pull 
 freely and oft the host called it a feast (i.e. made the 
 feaster welcome) right courteously, when all the retain- 
 ers praised him (Gawain or the host?) as courteous." 
 In the next two sentences the host is pretty certainly 
 the subject. With this interpretation cf. Macbeth, in, 4, 
 33 : " The feast is sold that is not often vouch'd, while 
 'tis a-making, 'tis given with welcome." 
 
 worth and prowess and gracious traits, and 
 is ever praised; above all the men in the 
 world his renown is the greatest. Each 
 warrior said full softly to bis companion — 
 " Now shall we see courteous turns of be- 
 haviour, and the blameless forms of noble 
 talking; what profit there is in speech may 
 we learn without asking since we have taken 
 that fine father of nurture. God has indeed 
 given us his grace, who grants us to have 
 such a guest as Gawain, on account of whose 
 birth men sit and sing for joy. This hero 
 will now teach us what distinguished man- 
 ners are ; I think that those who hear him 
 will learn how to make love." 
 
 18. When the dinner was done and the 
 dear ones risen, the time was nigh arrived 
 at the night. Chaplains took their way to 
 the chapels, and rang full loudly, as they 
 should, to the melodious evensong of the high 
 time. The lord turns thither, and the lady 
 also. Into a comely closet daintily she enters. - 
 Gawain joyfully proceeds, and goes thither . 
 straightway. The lord takes him by the 
 mantle and leads him to his seat, recognizes 
 him openly and calls him by his name, and 
 says he is the welcomest wight in the world. 
 And Gawain thanked him thoroughly and 
 either embraced the other, and they sat so- 
 berly together during the service. Then the 
 lady desired to look on the knight, and came 
 from her closet with many fair maidens. 
 But she was fairer than all the others in 
 flesh and face, in skin and form, in com- 
 plexion and demeanour — more beautiful 
 than Guinevere, it seemed to the hero. He 
 walked through the chancel to greet that 
 gracious one. Another lady led her by the 
 left hand, that was older than she ; an ancient t 
 lady it seemed, and one highly honoured 
 by the knights about her; but unlike to look 
 on were the ladies, for if the younger was 
 fair, yellow was the other. Rich red on the 
 one bloomed everywhere ; rough wrinkled 
 cheeks rolled on the other. The kerchiefs 
 of the one broidered with many clear pearls, 
 openly displayed her breast and her bright 
 throat, which shone clearer than snow that i \ 
 falls on the hills. The other covered her 
 neck with a gorget, that wrapped her black 
 chin in milk-white pleats. Her forehead 
 was completely enveloped in silken folds, 
 adorned and tricked 3 with small ornaments; 
 
 » The precise, but not the general, meaning of the 
 two participles is uncertain. 
 
SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT 
 
 13 
 
 and naught was bare of that lady but the 
 black brows, the two eyes, the nose, and the 
 naked lips ; and those were ugly to behold 
 and oddly bleared. A gracious lady in the 
 1 land one might call her forsooth ! ller body 
 was short and thick, her hips round 1 and 
 broad. More pleasant to look on was the 
 being she led. 
 
 19. When Gawain looked on that beau- 
 teous one who gazed graciously, he took 
 leave of the lord, and went toward them. 
 The elder he saluted, bowing full low; the 
 lovelier he took a little in his arms; he 
 kissed her comely, and knightly he greeted 
 her. They welcomed him, and he quickly 
 asked to be their servant if it pleased them. 
 They took him between them and led him 
 conversing to the fireplace in the parlour; 
 and straightway they called for spices, 
 which men speeded to bring them unspar- 
 ingly, and the pleasant wine therewith each 
 
 » time. The lord leaped merrily np full often, 
 and saw to it tliat the mirth never faltered. 
 Gaily he snatched off his hood and hung it 
 on a spear, and exhorted them to win it as 
 a prize — he to have it 2 who could make 
 the most mirth that Christmas tide. "And 
 I shall try, by my faith, with the help of my 
 friends 8 to compete with the best, ere I lose 
 my apparel." '1 bus with laughing mien the 
 lord makes merry in order to glad Sir 
 Gawain with games in the hall that night. 
 When it came time, the king commanded 
 lights; Sir Gawain took his leave and went 
 to his bed. 
 
 20. On the morn when as every man 
 knows God was born to die for us, joy 
 waxes in every dwelling in the world for 
 
 jj his sake. So it did there on that day, with 
 many dainties at meats and meals, right 
 quaint dishes, and brave men on the dais 
 dressed in their best. The old ancient wife 
 sits the highest, the courteous lord placed 
 by her, as I trow ; Gawain and the gay lady 
 together just in the middle, as the courses 4 
 properly come; and afterwards the rest 
 
 ^ throughout all the hall, as it seemed best 
 to them, each man in his degree was prop- 
 erly served. There was meat, there was 
 
 1 The meaning of bay is doubtful. 
 
 ' These four words supplied. 
 
 » This phrase may go with "lose," thus aggravating 
 the joke. 
 
 * This word (messe) can refer to the courses (the 
 food), or to the " mess " (the two persons eating to- 
 gether, i.e. using the same goblet, platter, etc.). 
 
 mirth, there was much joy, that it were 
 arduous for me to tell thereof, though to 
 note it I took pains belike. But yet I know 
 that Gawain and the lovely lady took com- 
 fort in each other's company, in the choice 
 play of their sharp wits, and the pure cour- 
 tesy of their modest talk; their disport sur- 
 passed indeed that of any royal game. 
 Trumps and drums came playing loudly; 
 each man minded his own business, and they 
 two minded theirs. 
 
 21. Much delight was taken there that 
 day, and the second; and the third followed 
 as pleasantly. The joy of St. John's day 
 was gentle to hear of; and it was the last of 
 the festival, the people considered. There 
 were guests to go upon the grey morn; 
 therefore wondrous late they sat up and 
 drank the wine, danced fidl gayly with 
 sweet carols. At the last, when it was late, 
 they took their leave, each good man to 
 wend on his way. Gawain gave his host 
 good day; but the good man takes him, and 
 leads him to his own chamber, by the fire- 
 place; and there he draws him aside and 
 properly thanks him for the great worship 
 that he had granted him in honouring his 
 house on that high tide, in embellishing his 
 castle with his good cheer. " Indeed, sir, 
 while I live I shall be the better that Gawain 
 has been my guest at God's own feast." 
 
 " Gramercy, sir," quoth Gawain, " in good 
 faith the merit is yours; all the honour 
 is your own, — the high King reward you; 
 and I am your man to work your behest in 
 high and in low as I am bound by right." 
 
 The lord eagerly strives to hold the knight 
 longer; but Gawain answers him that he 
 can in no wise. 
 
 22. Then the hero asked of him full 
 fairly what extraordinary deed had driven 
 him at that dear time from the king's court, 
 to go all alone so boldly, ere the holidays 
 were wholly over. 
 
 "For sooth, sir," quoth the hero, "ye 
 say but the truth; a high errand and a 
 hasty had me from these dwellings; for I 
 am summoned to such a place as I know 
 not in the world whitherward to wend to 
 find it. I would not for all the land in 
 Logres fail to reach it on New Year's morn 
 — so our Lord help me. Therefore, sir, 
 
 6 The clause literally translated is insignificant ; we 
 expect something like " and yet I should fall for all my 
 pains." 
 
i4 
 
 SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT 
 
 this request I require of you here, that ye 
 tell ine truly if ever ye heard tale of the 
 green chapel, where in the world it stands, 
 and of the knight green in colour that keeps 
 it. There was established by statute an 
 agreement between us that I should meet 
 that man at that landmark if I could but 
 survive. And of that same New Year there 
 now lacks but little, and by God's Son I 
 would gladlier look on that person — if 
 God would let me — than wield any posses- 
 sion in the world. Therefore, indeed — by 
 your good will — it behooves me to wend; 
 I have now at my disposal barely three 
 clays; and I were as fain fall dead as fail of 
 mine errand." 
 
 Then laughing quoth the lord, "Now it 
 behooves thee to stay; for I shall direct you 
 to that spot by the time's end — the green 
 chapel upon the ground. Grieve you no 
 more; for ye shall be in your bed, sir, at 
 thine ease some days yet, and set out on 
 the first of the year and come to that place 
 at mid-morn, to do what you like. Stay till 
 New Year's day; and rise and go then. 
 One shall set you on your way; it is not 
 two miles hence." 
 
 23. Then was Gawnin full glad, and 
 merrily he laughed; "Now I thank you es- 
 pecially for this above all other things; now 
 that my quest is achieved, I shall dwell 
 at your will, and do whatever else ye de- 
 cide." 
 
 Then the sire seized him and set him be- 
 side him, and let the ladies be fetched to 
 please them the better. Fair entertainment 
 they had quietly among themselves; the 
 lord in his jovial, friendly demeanor be- 
 haved as a man out of 1 his wits that knew 
 not what he did. Then he spake to the 
 knight, crying loud, " Ye have agreed to 
 do the deed that I bid. Will ye hold this 
 hest here at once ? " 
 
 " Yea, sir, forsooth," said the true hero, 
 " while I stay in your castle I shall be obe- 
 dient to your hest." 
 
 " Since ye have travelled from afar," 
 quoth the warrior, " and then have sat late 
 with me, ye are not well nourished, I know, 
 either with sustenance or with sleep. Ye 
 shall linger in your loft and lie at your ease 
 tomorrow till mass time; and go to meat 
 when ye will with my wife, who shall sit 
 
 i Wolde in the text is translated as a corruption of 
 some such word as " was lacking," or "wandered." 
 
 with you and comfort you with her com- 
 pany till I return home; and I shall rise 
 early and go hunting." Gawain grants all 
 this, bowing courteously. 
 
 24. " Yet further," quoth the hero, " let us * 
 make an agreement. Whatsoever I win in 
 the wood, it shall be yours; and whatsoever 
 fortune ye achieve, exchange with me there- 
 for. Sweet sir, swap we so, swear truly, 
 whichever one of us gets the worse or the 
 better." 
 
 " By God," quoth Gawain the good, " I 
 consent thereto; and whatever game you 
 like, agreeable it seems to me." 
 
 "On this beverage just brought the bar- 
 gain is made," said the lord of that people; 
 and both laughed. 
 
 Then they drank and played and amused 2 
 themselves, these lords and ladies, so long 
 as it pleased them; and then with polite 
 demeanour and many fair gestures, they 
 stood up and lingered a while, and talked i 
 quietly, kissed full comely, and took their 
 have. With many a gay servant and gleam- 
 ing torches each hero was brought to his 
 bed full softly at the last. Yet before they 
 went to bed they oft rehearsed the cove- 
 nants. The old lord of that people knew 
 well how to keep up a jest. 
 
 FYTTE THE THIRD 
 
 1. Full early before the day the folk 
 arose; the guests that would go called their 
 grooms, and these hastened to saddle the 
 horses, arrange their gear, and truss their 
 mails. The great ones arrayed themselves 
 to ride, leaped up lightly and caught their 
 bridles, each wight on his way where it 
 well pleased him. 
 
 The dear lord of the land was not the 
 last; arrayed for the riding 1 , with retainers 
 full many, he ate a sop 8 hastily after he 
 had heard mass, and took his way quickly 
 with his bugle to the field. By the time 
 that any daylight gleamed upon earth, he 
 with his heroes were mounted on their high 
 horses. Then these hunters that understood 
 it, coupled their hounds, unclosed the ken- 
 nel doors and called them thereout, blew 
 blithely on bugles three simple calls. At 
 this the brachets 4 bayed and made a wild 
 noise, and the hunters chastised and turned 
 
 2 Word doubtful. > Took a light repast. 
 
 * Hounds that hunt by scent. 
 
SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT 
 
 i5 
 
 back those that wandered off, — a hundred 
 hunters of the best there were, as I have 
 heard tell. To their stations the trackers 
 went; hunters cast off the couples ; and then 
 1 arose for the good blasts great uproar in 
 that forest. 
 
 2. At the first noise of the qnest the 
 game quaked; the deer moved down into 
 the dale, dazed for dread; hurried to the 
 height; but quickly they were hindered by 
 the beaters, who cried stoutly. They let the 
 harts with the high heads go their way, the 
 wild bucks also with their broad palms, 1 
 
 ' for the generous lord had forbidden that 
 there should any man meddle with the 
 male deer in the close season. But the hinds 
 were held back with "Hay!" and "Ho!" 
 and the does driven with great din to the 
 deep glades. There might one see as they 
 ran the flight of arrows; at each turn under 
 the boughs out flew a shaft, that savagely 
 
 ► bit on the brown hide with full broad heads. 
 How they leaped and bled and died by the 
 banks ! And ever the hounds with a rush 
 eagerly followed them; hunters with shrill 
 horn hastened after with such a resound- 
 ing cry as if cliffs had cracked. What game 
 escaped the men who shot was all run down 
 and torn at the stands. The deer 2 were 
 pestered at the heights, and worried at the 
 waters; the people were so alert at the low 
 stations, and the greyhounds so great, that 
 got them quickly and pulled them down as 
 fast as a man could see. The lord, shouting 
 for joy, shot and alighted full oft, and 
 passed the day thus with joy till the dark 
 night. 
 
 3. So this lord sports by the eaves of the 
 * linden wood, and Gawain the good man lies 
 
 in his gay bed; reposes till the day light 
 gleams on the walls, under the beautiful 
 coverlets, curtained about. And as he fell 
 into a doze, faintly he heard a little din at 
 the door, then distinctly; 3 and he heaved 
 up his head out of the clothes, caught up a 
 corner of his curtain a little, and watched 
 warily in that direction to see what it might 
 be. It was the lady, loveliest to behold, who 
 drew the door to after her right slyly and 
 quietly, and turned toward the bed. The 
 hero grew bashful and laid himself down 
 cunningly and pretended that he slept. And 
 she stepped quietly, and stole to his bed, 
 
 1 The flat, broad part of the horn. 
 
 » Subject supplied. 3 Meaning not quite sure. 
 
 cast up the curtain, and crept within, and 
 seated herself full softly on the bedside, 
 and stayed there surprisingly long, to see 
 when he should awake. The man lay pre- 
 tending a full great while, bothered in his 
 conscience what this affair might mean or 
 amount to. Marvellous it seemed to him. 
 But yet he said to himself, " More seemly 
 would it be to find out by asking what she 
 would." Then he waked, and stretched, and 
 turned to her ; unlocked his eyelids, and 
 made believe he was amazed, and crossed 
 himself with his hand, to be the safer for 
 his prayer. With chin and cheek full sweet, 
 of mingled white and xed, right lovely she 
 looked, with her small laughing lips. 
 
 4. "Good morrow, Sir Gawain!" said 
 that fair lady. " Ye are a careless sleeper 
 when one can enter thus. Now ye are cer- 
 tainly taken; unless we can make a truce 
 I shall bind you in your bed, ye may be 
 sure of that ! " All laughing the lady shot 
 those jests. 
 
 " Good morrow, fair one," quoth Gawain 
 the blithe. "I shall be at your disposal, and 
 that pleases me well, for I yield me out- 
 right and pray for grace, — and that is the 
 best course, I judge, for I am in straits." 
 And thus he returned the jests with many 
 a blithe laugh. " But would ye, lovely lady, 
 grant me leave, free 4 your prisoner and bid 
 him rise, I would leave this bed and dress 
 myself better. Then I could talk with you 
 in more comfort." 
 
 " Nay, forsooth, fair sir," said that sweet 
 one, "ye shall not rise from your bed; I 
 shall manage you better. I shall tie you 
 up securely, 5 and afterwards talk with my 
 knight that I have caught ; for I ween well, 
 ye are indeed Sir Gawain, whom all the 
 world worships whereso ye ride. Your 
 honour, your courtesy, is heartily praised, 
 by lords, by ladies, by all alive; and now 
 ye are here, forsooth, and we all alone. My 
 lord and his people are gone far away; the 
 other men in their beds, and my maidens 
 also; the door shut and closed with a strong 
 hasp; and since I have in this house him 
 whom all like, I shall make good use of my 
 time while it lasts. Ye are we'eome to my 
 person, to do whatever y<m wish; I am per- 
 force, and must remain, your servant." 
 
 * Meaning doubtful. 
 
 6 A mere guess : the line appears to be literally " I 
 shall cover you here the other half also." 
 
i6 
 
 SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT 
 
 5. " In good faith," quoth Gawain, " a 
 great privilege it seems to uie — though I 
 be not now he that ye speak of. To reach 
 such reverence as ye rehearse here, I am a 
 man unworthy, I know well. By God, I 
 should be glad — if it seemed good to you 
 
 — to do what I might in speech or iii serv- 
 ice to enhance your worship; 1 — it were a 
 pure joy." 
 
 " In good faith, Sir Gawain," quoth the 
 gay lady, " if I should speak ill of the fame 
 and the prowess that pleases all others, or 
 esteem it light, it would show but small 
 discernment. 2 But there are ladies enough 
 who were liefer have this courteous one in 
 their £>ower — as I have thee here, — to 
 dally dearly with your dainty words, to 
 comfort themselves and dispel their cares, 
 
 — than much of the treasure and gold that 
 they have. But I praise the Lord who rides 
 the skies that through his grace I have 
 wholly in my hand that which all desire." 
 
 Great cheer she that was so fair of face 
 made him; the knight with discreet speeches 
 answered her every proposal. 
 
 6. " Madame," quoth the merry man, 
 "Mary reward you, for in good faith I 
 have found your generosity noble. People 
 judge a person's deeds largely from the ac- 
 counts of others ; :i but the praise that they 
 accord my deserts is but idle. It is simply 
 your own nobility, who know nothing but 
 good." 
 
 "By Mary," quoth the gracious one, 
 " methinks it is otherwise ; for were I 
 worth all the store of women alive, and all 
 the wealth of the world were in my hands, 
 and I should bargain and choose to get me 
 a lord, then for the good traits that I 
 have found in the knight here, of beauty 
 and graciousness and gay seeming, and 
 from what I have heard before and hold 
 in this case to be true, there should no hero 
 in the world be chosen before you." 
 
 "Indeed, worthy one," quoth the hero, 
 "ye might 4 have chosen much better; but 
 I am proud of the estimation that ye put 
 upon me; and as your devoted servant I 
 hold you my sovereign, and your knight 
 I become; and Christ pay you for it." 
 
 Thus they spoke of various things till 
 past the midmorn; and ever the lady be- 
 
 1 The passage is none too clear. 
 
 2 The last clause is obscure in the text. 
 
 8 The passage is obscure. * "might" supplied - 
 
 haved as if she loved him much. But the 
 hero fared with caution and made courteous 
 pretences. " Though I were the fairest of 
 women," mused the lady, " little love would 
 he show, because of the danger that he seeks ^ 
 without reproach — the blow that may slay 
 him, but must needs be undergone." The 
 lady then asked leave, and he granted her 
 full soon. 
 
 7. Then she gave him good day, and of 
 a sudden laughed ; and as she stood there 
 she astonished him with right sharp words: 
 " Now may he that speeds each speech, pay 
 you for this entertainment; but that ye are * 
 Gawain, it goes not in my mind." 5 
 
 " Wherefore ? " quoth the hero; and 
 eagerly he asks, afraid lest he had failed 
 in the performance of his design. 6 But the 
 lady blessed him and spake in this wise: 
 " A man as good as Gawain is properly 
 held — and courtesy is closed so entirely 
 in him — could not easily have lingered so 4 
 long with a lady but he had on some trifling 
 excuse or other 7 courteously craved a kiss." 
 Then said Gawain, " Indeed, be it as you 
 like; I shall kiss at your commandment as 
 becomes a knight, and fear 8 lest he dis- 
 please you; so urge that plea no more." 
 She conies nearer at that and takes him 
 in her arms; stoops graciously down and 
 kisses the man. They courteously entrust <. 
 each other to Christ. She goes forth at the 
 door without more ado, and he prepares to 
 rise, and hurries amain; calls to his cham- 
 berlain, chooses his weeds, steps forth 
 blithely to mass when he is ready; and then 
 he goes to his meat, behaving always cour- 
 teously, and makes merry all day till the 
 bright moon rises. Never was a hero fairer 
 entertained by two such worthy dames, the 
 older and the younger. Much disport they 
 make together. 
 
 8. And ever the lord of the land is bound 
 on his sport, to hunt in holts and heath at 
 barren hinds. Such a sum of does and of 
 other deer he slew there by the time the 
 sun was low, that it were a marvel to esti- 
 mate. Then eagerly they all flocked to- f 
 gether at the last; and quickly of the slain 
 deer they made a quarry. The leaders 
 
 5 The negative is supplied. 
 
 6 Possibly, "in some form of courtesy." 
 
 7 Literally, " By some touch of some trifle at some 
 tale's end." 
 
 8 " Fear" is an emendation by Morris ; the clause is 
 obscure. 
 
SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT 
 
 r 7 
 
 hastened thereto with men enough; gath- 
 ered the greatest of grease, 1 and proceeded 
 properly to undo 2 them as the occasion de- 
 mauds. Some that were there tried them 
 at the assay 8 and found two fingers of fat 
 on the leanest of all. Afterwards they slit 
 the slot, 4 seized the arher, 5 cut it free with 
 a sharp knife, and tied it 6 up. Next they 
 cut down along the four limbs and rent off 
 the hide; then they opened the belly, took 
 out the paunch, cutting eagerly, and laid 
 aside the knot." They began at the throat 
 again and skilfully divided the weasand 
 
 » from the windpipe and threw out the guts. 
 Then they cut out the shoulders with their 
 sharp knives, and pulled them through by a 
 little hole, so as to have whole sides. Next 
 they divided the breast, and cut it in two; 
 and once more they began at the throat, 
 split the beast quickly right up to the crotch, 
 took out the advancers, 3 and immediately 
 severed all the fillets by the ribs, and took 
 them off properly along the backbone even 
 to the haunch, — all of which hung to- 
 gether. Then they heaved it up whole and 
 cut it off there; and that they took for the 
 nunibles, 9 as it is rightly called. At the 
 fork of the thighs they cut the flaps behind ; 
 hastily they hewed the carcass in two, and 
 severed it along the backbone. 
 
 f 9. Both the head and the neck they 
 
 hewed off then, and afterwards they 
 sundered the sides swiftly from the chine, 
 and the corbie's fee 10 they cast in a green 
 tree. Then they pierced either thick side 
 through by the rib, and hung them each by 
 the hocks of the haunches — each man for 
 his fee, as it befell him to have it. Upon a 
 skin of a fair beast they fed their hounds 
 with the liver and the lights, the leather 
 of the paunches, and bread bathed in 
 blood mingled thereamong. Loudly they 
 blew the prize, and bayed their hounds; 
 then they started to carry home their meat, 
 blowii gfull stoutly many loud notes. By the 
 
 i The correct hunting term for "the fattest." 
 
 * Cut up. 
 
 > Probably at the side of the neck, or on the brisket. 
 
 * Probably at the hollow of the breast bone. 
 6 The gullet probably. 
 
 * The schyre is presumably the " arber " ; though in 
 1. 2256 it appears to be the skin of the neck or nape. 
 
 i i.e. the entrails, with the gullet knotted to prevent 
 the filth from escaping. 
 
 8 This titbit is sometimes called a part of the num- 
 bles. 
 
 8 A choice cut ; hence, capriciously, our humble-pie. 
 10 A bit of the offal for the crows. 
 
 time daylight was done the band had all 
 arrived at the comely castle, where the 
 knight is quietly waiting in comfort beside 
 a bright fire. When the lord arrived and 
 Gawain met him, there was joy enough. _ 
 
 10. Then the lord commanded to gather 
 in the hall all the household, and both the 
 ladies to come down with their maids. Be- 
 fore all the folk on the floor he bade men 
 fetch his venison before him; and all in 
 merry sport he called Gawain, told him the 
 number of the choice beasts, and showed 
 him the fat meat cut from n the ribs; "How 
 like you this play ? Have I won the prize ? 
 Have I properly earned thanks by my 
 woodcraft ? " 
 
 "Yes, indeed," quoth the other bero; 
 "here is the fairest store that 1 saw this 
 seven year in the season of winter." 
 
 "And all I give you, Gawain," qnoth 
 the host, then ; " for by our plighted cov- 
 enant you can claim it as your own." 
 
 " That is true," replied the hero, " and I 
 say to you the same; I too have won this 
 worthy thing within doors; audi am sure 
 that with quite as good will it belongs to 
 you." He throws his arms about bis fair 
 neck and kisses him as courteously as he 
 knew how. " Take you there my merchan- 
 dise; I have won no more; though I should 
 give it up willingly even if it were greater." 
 
 "It is good," quoth the good man; 
 "gramercy therefor. Perchance it might 
 be better if you would tell me where you 
 won this same favour by your own 12 wit.' 3 
 
 "That was not the agreement," said he; 
 "ask me no more, for ye have got all that 
 belongs to you, be sure of that." 
 
 They laughed and made merry in low 
 tones; then they went quickly to supper 
 with new dainties enough. 
 
 11. And afterwards as they sat by a fire- 
 place in a chamber, servants poured to 
 them oft the choice wine; and again in 
 their jesting they agreed to make the same 
 bargain on the morning that they made be- 
 fore — whatsoever chance betide to ex- 
 change their winnings at night when they 
 met,°whatsoever new they win. They made 
 this agreement before all the court, and 
 the beverage was brought forth merrily at 
 that time. 18 Then at length they politely 
 took leave; and everybody hurried to bed. 
 
 U Literally "upon." » 2 Possessive uncertain, 
 
 u A drink ratifies the agreement — as before. 
 
SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT 
 
 When the cock bad crowed and cackled 
 but thrice, the lord had leaped from his 
 bed; likewise his followers each one, so 
 that the meat and the mass were promptly 
 despatched, and the troop ready for the 
 chase in the wood ere any day sprang. 
 With hunters and horns they passed through 
 the plains, and uncoupled the racing hounds 
 among the thorns. 
 
 12. Soon they heard the cry of the dogs 
 by a marsh side. The huntsman encouraged 
 the hounds that first caught the scent, 
 hurled sharp words at them with a great 
 noise. The hounds that heard it hastened 
 thither quickly, and fell immediately to the 
 scent, forty at once. Then there rose such 
 a resounding cry of gathered hounds that 
 the rocks about rang. The hunters cheered 
 them with horn and with mouth; then all 
 together they swung in a troop between a 
 pool in that wood and a wild crag. On a 
 hill, beside a cliff at the side of the bog, 
 where the rough rock was rudely fallen, 
 they fared to the finding, and the hunters 
 after them. The men surrounded both the 
 rock and the hill, because they knew well 
 that he was within them, — the beast that 
 the bloodhounds were proclaiming there. 
 Then they beat on the bushes and bade 
 him rise up, and he savagely rushed out 
 athwart the men, the most formidable of 
 swine. Long since had he left the herd 
 on account of his age, for he was a huge 
 beast, the greatest of boars. His grinders 
 when he grunted grieved many, for at his 
 first burst he thrust three to the earth, and 
 sped hastily forth at great speed without 
 respite. And they hallooed " High ! " full 
 loudly, and cried "Hay, hay ! " With horns 
 to mouth lustily they blew the recheat. 1 
 Many were the merry cries of men and of 
 hounds that hastened after this boar with 
 hue and cry to kill him. Full oft he bides 
 at bay, and maims the pack in the mele'e. 
 He hurts many of the hounds and griev- 
 ously they howl and yell. 
 
 13. The hunters pushed forward then to 
 shoot at him, aimed at him with their ar- 
 rows and hit him often. But the shafts that 
 struck on his shields, 2 give way at the pith, 
 and the barbs would not bite on his brawn 
 though the shaven shafts shivered in pieces; 
 the head hopped out again wheresoever it 
 
 i A call for collecting the hounds. 
 1 The tough skin cf the Hanks. 
 
 hit. But when the dints of their keen 
 strokes scared him, then mad for destruc- 
 tion he rushed on the men, did them sore 
 hurt where he hurled forth, and many a one 
 grew wary thereat and gave back a little. 
 But the lord on a light horse hurries after , 
 him, blowing his bugle like a bold hero. 
 He winds the recheat as he rides through 
 thick groves, following this wild swine 
 till the sun declined. Thus they drive on 
 the day with such doings while our lovely 
 hero lies comfortably in his bed at home in 
 clothes full rich of hue. The lady did not 
 forget; she came to greet him; full early 
 she was by him to change his mind. 1 
 
 14. She comes to the curtain and peeps 
 at the knight. Sir Gawain at once welcomes 
 her worthily, and she returns his greeting 
 right promptly, seats herself softly by his 
 side, laughs openly, and with a lovely look 
 addresses these words to him: "Sir, if ye 
 be Gawain, it seems to me a very strange 
 thing that a man of such quality should + 
 not follow the conventions of good society; 
 and should after making acquaintance with 
 a person cast him utterly from his mind. 
 Thou hast already forgotten what I taught 
 you yesterday in the best language that I 
 knew." 
 
 "What is that ? " quoth the hero. " For- 
 sooth I know not. If what ye say be true, 
 I am to blame." 
 
 " Yet I taught you about kissing," re- 
 plied the fair lady; "wherever a counte- 
 nance is known, quickly to claim a kiss; 
 that becomes every knight who practices 
 courtesy." 
 
 " Cease such speech, my dear lady," said 
 the ready man. " I durst not claim it lest 
 I should be denied. If I proposed and were j 
 refused, I should certainly be wrong in 
 proffering." 
 
 " By my faith," quoth the lovely dame, 
 " ye cannot be refused. Ye are strong 
 enough to compel it by strength if ye 
 pleased, supposing any were so ill-bred as 
 to deny you." 
 
 " Yea, by God," said Gawain, " your 
 speech is good; but violence is considered * 
 discourteous among my people, as is any 
 gift that is not given with a good will. I 
 am at your command to kiss when ye like. 
 Ye may begin when ye please, and leave 
 off whenever it likes you." 
 
 The lady stoops down and gracefully 
 
SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT 
 
 J 9 
 
 kisses his face. They converse long of the 
 fears and joys of love. 
 
 15. " I should like to know from you, 
 sir," said the peerless lady, " if it vexes 
 you not, — what might be the reason that so 
 young and so gallant person as ye uow are, 
 one so courteous and so knightly as ye are 
 known everywhere to be, have never spoken 
 of love. 1 For in relating the pains of true 
 knights, the chief thing praised in all of 
 
 • chivalry is the royal sport of love, — and 
 the science of arms: it is the title, token, 
 and text of their works; how heroes for 
 their true love adventured their lives, en- 
 dured for their sweethearts doleful hours, 
 and afterwards avenged themselves by their 
 valour; dispersed their care, and brought 
 bliss to bower, with plenteous rewards for 
 themselves. And ye are the most renowned 
 knight of your time; your fame and your 
 worship walks everywhere, — and now I 
 have sat by you here two separate times, 
 yet have I never heard from your head a 
 single word that pertained at all to love, 
 less or more. And ye, that are so courte- 
 ous and so distinguished in your vows, 
 ought willingly to show and teach to a 
 young thing some tokens of the art of true 
 love. Why are ye so rude who are so praised? 
 Is it that ye deem me too dull to hearken 
 to your dalliance? For shame! I came 
 hither all alone to sit and learn from you 
 some accomplishment: do teach me part of 
 your skill while my lord is from home." 
 
 16. " In good faith," quoth Gawain, 
 "God reward you ! Great is the entertain- 
 ment, and huge the pleasure to me, that so 
 worthy a one as ye should come hither, and 
 take pains with so poor a man, and play 
 with your knight in any wise; it delights 
 me. But to take upon myself the task of 
 expounding true love, of touching upon the 
 themes of that text, and tales of arms be- 
 fore you, who I wot well have more knowl- 
 edge of that sort by the half than I or a 
 hundred such have, or ever shall have so 
 long as I live, — that were a manifold folly 
 by my troth, dear one. But I would work 
 your will with all my might, highly be- 
 holden to you as I am; and I wish ever- 
 more to be your servant, so God save me." 
 
 Thus the fair lady besought him, and 
 
 1 The words in italics are rasli!y supplied by the 
 translator. For several lines here the construction is 
 unclear. 
 
 tried him oft, for to have won him to 
 wrong, — whatever it was she purposed; 
 but he defended himself so fairly that no 
 fault appeared, nor any evil on either side; 
 they knew nought but joy. They laughed 
 and played a long time, till at last she 
 kissed him, took her leave fairly, and went 
 her way. 
 
 17. Then the hero bestirred himself and 
 rose to the mass; and afterwards their din- 
 ner was dight and splendidly served. The 
 hero sported with the ladies all day, but 
 the lord raced over the land full oft, fol- 
 lowing his uncouth swine, that rushed along 
 the banks and bit in sunder the backs of his 
 best brachets. 2 There he abode at his bay 
 till bowmen broke it, and maugre bis head 
 made him move forth. Many fell arrows 
 there flew when the folk gathered about, 
 but yet at times he made the stoutest to 
 start; till at the last he was so weary he 
 couhl no more run; but with the haste that 
 he might he won to a hole in a cleft by a 
 rock, where the burn runs. He got the 
 bank at his back and began to scrape; the 
 ugly froth foamed from the corners of his 
 mouth, and he whet his white tusks. It 
 was not pleasant for all the bold hunters 
 that stood about him to approach him even 
 remotely; and to go nigh him durst none 
 for fear of harm. He had hurt so many 
 before, that all seemed then full loath to be 
 more torn with the tusks of that savage 
 and crazed beast. 
 
 18. When the knight came himself, rein- 
 ing his steed, and saw him bide at the bay 
 near his men, he lighted nimbly down, 
 left his courser, pulled out a bright brand 
 and boldly strode forth, and hurried fast 
 through the stream where the fell one 
 abode. The wild creature was ware of the 
 wight with weapon in hand, and heaved 
 on high his hairs; so fiercely he snorted 
 that many feared for their lord lest to him 
 befell the worse. The swine rushed directly 
 upon the hero, so that man and boar were 
 both in a heap in the wildest of the water; 
 but the boar had the worse, for the man 
 marked him well as they first met and skil- 
 fully set his point exactly in the slot, 3 
 pierced him up to the hilt so that his heart 
 split, and he gave way squealing and went 
 quickly down the water. A hundred hounds 
 seized him and fiercely bit on him. Men 
 
 2 hounds. 8 The proper piercing spot in the chest. 
 
SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT 
 
 brought him to land and the dogs finished 
 him. 1 
 
 19. There was blowing of the prize 2 on 
 many a loud horn, high halloing aloft by 
 mighty hunters; brachets bayed the beast 
 as the masters bade who were the chief 
 huntsmen of that swift chase. Then a wight 
 that was wise in woodcraft begins skilfully 
 to unlace 3 this boar. First he hews off its 
 head and sets it on high; and afterwards 
 splits him all down his rough back, and 
 takes out the bowels and singes them on 
 the coals; then with bread mingled with 
 these, he rewards his hounds. Afterwards 
 he cuts the brawn in fine broad shields, and 
 has out the hastlets 4 in the proper man- 
 ner. And now they bind the halves all whole 
 together, and afterwards stoutly hang them 
 on a stiff staff. Now with this same swine 
 tbey take their way home. The boar's 
 head was borne before the warrior who 
 slew him at the stream through the force 
 of his own strong hand. It seemed long to 
 him until he saw Sir Gawain in the hall; 
 then he called, and Gawain came promptly 
 to take his fees there. 
 
 20. The lord jested 5 full loudly, and 
 merrily he laughed when he saw Sir Ga- 
 wain; with pleasure he spoke. The good 
 ladies were called and the household gath- 
 ered. He showed them the shields and told 
 them the tale of the girth 6 and length of the 
 wild swine; and also of his viciousness in 
 the wood where he fled. That other knight 
 full comely commended his deeds, and 
 praised it as a great bag that he had made; 
 for such a brawn of a beast, the bold man 
 said, nor such sides of a swine, saw he 
 never before. Then they handled the huge 
 head; the courteous man praised it and 
 made much of it to honour the lord. 
 
 " Now Gawain," quoth the good man, 
 " this game is your own, by fine and fast 
 foreword, truly ye know." 
 
 " It is sooth," quoth the hero; "and as 
 truely all my getting I shall give you in 
 turn, by my troth." He took the warrior 
 about the neck and courteously kissed him, 
 and another time he served him the same. 
 
 i Present and past tense are oddly mixed in this 
 stanza, as often in the poem. This time they have been 
 normalized. 
 
 > The horn-blowing for the frame's death. 
 
 • cut up. l cutlets. 
 s Two words not clear. 
 
 • Translating largesse as "largeness." 
 
 "Now we are even," quoth the warrior, 
 " tonight of all the covenants that we knit 
 by law since I came hither." 
 
 Said the lord, " By St. Giles, ye are the 
 best that I know ! Ye will be rich in a 
 short time, if ye drive such chaffer ! "' ' 
 
 21. Then they raised tables aloft on 
 trestles, and cast cloths upon them. The 
 clear light then appeared along the walls, 
 as men set and distributed waxen torches 
 all about the hall. Much mirth and glee 
 rose up therein, about the fire on the hearth, 
 and in various wise at the supper and after. 
 Many noble songs they sang, as Christmas 
 carols and new dance tunes, with all the 
 mannerly mirth that a man can tell of. And 
 ever our lovely knight sat beside the lady. 
 Such seemly cheer she made to the hero, 
 sought with such sly stolen 7 glances to please 
 the stalwart one, that the wight was all 
 amazed, and wroth with himself. But he 
 would not on account of his breeding re- 
 prove her, but responded in all courtesy, *« 
 howsoever outrageous she might be. When 
 they had played in the hall as long as their 
 will lasted, the lord called to bedwards, and 
 
 to the room with a fireplace they passed. 
 
 22. And there they drank and talked, 
 and the lord proposed again to make the 
 same arrangement for New Year's Eve. 
 But the knight craved leave to depart on „ 
 the morn, for it was nigh at the term that 
 
 he must keep. The lord hindered him from 
 that, persuaded him to linger, and said, 
 "As I am true man, I pledge my troth 
 thou shalt reach the green chapel to do thy 
 tasks, sir, by New Year's light, long be- 
 fore prime. Therefore lie in thy loft and 
 take thine ease; and I shall hunt in this 
 holt and keep the covenant — change mer- 
 chandise with thee when I return hither; 
 for I have tried thee twice, and faithful I 
 find thee; now, 'third time, best time.' 8 
 Think on the morrow. Make we merry 
 while we may, and be joyful; for a man can 
 catch trouble whensoever he likes." 
 
 This was readily granted and Gawain 
 stayed. Drink was quickly brought to them, 
 and to bed they went with lights. Sir Ga- 
 wain lay and slept full still and soft all 
 night; the lord, mindful of his hunting, was 
 dight full early. 
 
 ' A guess for stollen. 
 
 s The line is not clear ; literally, perhaps, " third 
 time, throw best." 
 
SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT 
 
 21 
 
 23. After mass he and his men took a 
 morsel. Merry was the morning. He asks for 
 his mount, and all the sportsmen who should 
 accompany him on horse were ready mounted 
 on their steeds before the hall gates. Won- 
 drous fair was the field, for the frost still 
 lingered. The sun rose in a rack of ruddy 
 red, and drove all the clouds from the wel- 
 kin. The hunters uncoupled by a holt side, 
 and the rocks in the forest rang for the 
 noise of their horns. Some dogs fell on a 
 scent where the fox had loitered; followed 
 it oft obliquely 1 through the cunning of their 
 wiles. A kennet 2 cried upon it; the hunts- 
 man encouraged him, and his fellows hast- 
 ened after, panting thickly. They ran forth 
 in a rabble on Reynard's very track, and he 
 hurried before them. Soon they found him; 
 and when they actually saw him they chased 
 him fast, baying him full fiercely with a 
 huge noise. And he trants 3 and turns 
 through many a rough grove; doubles and 
 hearkens by hedges full often. At the last 
 by a little ditch he leaps over a spinny, 
 and steals out full stilly by a rough rand. 4 
 Half escaped from the wood he turns with 
 wiles from the hounds; but then he arrived, 
 ere he knew it, at a chosen stand, where in 
 an instant three stout hunters in gray 
 threatened him at once. He blenched again 
 quickly, and bravely started off; with all 
 the woe in the world, he turned away to the 
 wood. 
 
 24. Then was it a pure joy to listen to the 
 hounds, when all the gathered mute 5 got 
 view of him. The cry they set on his head at 
 the sight was as if all the resounding cliffs 
 had clattered down in a heap. Here he was 
 halloed when the hunters met him, loudly 
 cried upon with noisy calls; there he was 
 threatened and often called thief; and ever 
 the ticklers were at his tail so that he could 
 not tarry. Oft he was run at when he raked 
 out, and oft he reeled in again, so wily was 
 Reynard. And ever he led the bespattered 
 lord and his troop in this manner among the 
 hills, now in them, now over, now under, 
 while the courteous knight at home slept 
 wholesomely within the comely curtains on 
 the cold morn. 
 
 But the lady for love cared not to sleep 
 nor to give up the purpose that bode in her 
 heart; but up she rose quickly and took her 
 
 » Word obscure. s small hound. 8 twists. 
 
 * Unploughed strip by woodside. * pack. 
 
 way thither in a gay mantle meetly reach- 
 ing to the earth, and furred full fine with 
 skins of the best. No ornaments of gold on 
 her head; but only the bright stones set 
 about her tressour 6 in clusters of twenty. 
 With her fair face and her lovely throat 
 all naked, her breast bare before and be- 
 hind too, she comes within the chamber 
 door and closes it after her, throws up a 
 window and calls on the wight, and smartly 
 thus stirred him with her fair cheery words. 
 " Ah man, how can you sleep, this morning 
 is so clear ! " Though he was drowsing 
 deep, yet could he hear her. 
 
 25. In the dreary depths of a dream the 
 noble was sunk, like a man suffering from 
 many sad thoughts, how destiny should 
 dight Mm 1 his weird at the green chapel 
 that day when he met the man, and had to 
 abide his buffet without more debate. But 
 when he had fairly recovered his wits, he 
 emerged from his dreams and answered 
 with haste. The lovely lady came laughing 
 sweetly, stooped over his fair face and 
 courteously kissed him. He welcomed her 
 worthily with choice cheer. To see her so 
 glorious, and so gaily attired, so faultless 
 of feature, and so lovely of colour, warmed 
 his heart with welling joy. With smooth 
 and gracious smiling they straightway 
 waxed mirthful. All was bliss and good 
 cheer that passed between them. They ex- 
 changed goodly words; much happiness they 
 felt, and great was the peril between them, 
 unless Mary thought of her knight. 
 
 26. For that beauteous princess con- 
 strained him so sorely, and the danger 
 pressed him so nigh, that of necessity it 
 behooved him either accept her love or 
 rudely refuse it. He thought much of his 
 courtesy, lest he should prove a clown; and 
 more on his villainy if he should do sin, and 
 be traitor to the hero who owned the castle. 
 "God shield!" quoth the warrior, "that 
 shall not befall ! " With a little love-dalli- 
 ance he laid aside all the pointed speeches 
 that sprang from her mouth. 
 
 Quoth the lady to the hero: "Ye deserve 
 blame if ye love not her who is so near 
 y OU) — of all creatures in the world most 
 wounded in heart;— unless indeed ye have 
 a sweetheart, a dearer being, that pleases 
 you better, and ye have plighted faith so 
 
 « headdress, caul. 
 
 ' Words in italics supplied by Morris. 
 
22 
 
 SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT 
 
 firmly to that gentle one that ye care not 
 to loosen it. — Verily now that is what I 
 believe, and I pray you that you tell me 
 truly; for all the loves in the world deny 
 not the truth with guile." 
 
 "By St. John!" said the knight, and 
 courteously he smiled, " I have none, and 
 none will I have." 
 
 27. " That is the worst of all ! " quoth 
 the lady. " I am answered indeed, to my 
 sorrow. Kiss me now comely and I shall 
 go hence. I can only mourn in the world as 
 a maid that loved much." 
 
 Sighing she stooped down and kissed him 
 seemly; and then she severed from him, and 
 said as she stood, " Now, dear, at this de- 
 parting do me this comfort; give me some- 
 what of thy gift, thy glove if it might he, 
 that I may think on thee, sir, to lessen my 
 mourning." 
 
 "Now in truth," quoth that man, "I 
 would I had here for thy love, the dearest 
 thing that I wield; fur truly ye have right 
 oft in reason deserved a greater reward 
 than I could reckon. But to exchange with 
 you love-tokens, that would profit but little. 
 It is not for your honor to have at this time 
 a glove of Ga wain's gift for a keepsake; 
 and I am here on an errand in lands un- 
 couth, and have no men with mails full of 
 precious things for remembrances at this 
 moment ; and that mislikes me, lady. But 
 every man must act according to his cir- 
 cumstances, and none should take it ill or 
 repine." 
 
 "Now, courteous and honourable one," 
 quoth that lovesome lady, " though I shall 
 have nothing of yours, yet shall ye have of 
 mine." 
 
 28. She reached him a rich ring of red 
 gold work with a gleaming stone standing 
 aloft, that shed blushing beams like the 
 bright stm; know ye well it was worth 
 wealth full huge. But the man refused it, 
 and readily he said: "I desire no great 
 gifts, my gay one, at this time. I have 
 naught to give you, and naught will I take." 
 
 She offered it him full pressinolv, and 
 he refused her offer, and swore swiftly on 
 his sooth that he would not take it. And 
 she sorrowed that he refused, and said 
 thereafter, "If ye refuse my ring, since it 
 seems too rich, and ye would not be so highly 
 beholden to me, I shall give you my girdle, 
 tl.r.t will enrich you less." 
 
 She lightly caught a lace that went about 
 her sides, knit upon her kirtle under the 
 bright mantle. It was adorned with green 
 silk, and ornamented with gold, broidered 
 all around, decked with fringes; 1 and that 
 she offered to the hero, and gaily besought 
 that, though it were unworthy, he would 
 take it. And he denied that he would in 
 any wise take either gold or present ere 
 God sent him grace to achieve the chance 
 that he had chosen there. " And therefore, 
 I pray you, be not displeased, and give over 
 your attempt; for I intend never to consent. 
 I am dearly beholden to you because of 
 your entertainment; and ever in hot and in 
 cold I will be your true servant." 
 
 29. " Now refuse ye this silk," said the 
 lady then, " because it is simple in itself, as 
 it certainly seems to be ? Lo 1 little it is, 
 and less it is worth; but whoso knew the 
 virtues that are knit therein, he would es- 
 teem it at a greater price peradventure; 
 for whatsoever man is girt with this green 
 lace, while he has it fittingly wrapped 
 about him, there is no warrior under heaven 
 than can wound him ; for he could not be 
 slain by any device in the world." 
 
 Then the knight paused, and it came to 
 his heart that it would be a jewel for the 
 peril that awaited him when he arrived at 
 the chapel to undergo his ordeal. Could he 
 manage to be unslain, that were a noble de- 
 vice. Then he indulged her entreaties and 
 suffered her to speak; and she pressed the 
 belt on him and offered it to him eagerly. 
 And he accepted it, and she gave it him with 
 a good will, and besought him for her sake 
 never to discover it, but to conceal it loy- 
 ally from her lord. The man agreed that 
 never person should know it indeed but 
 they twain. Full oft he thanked her, right 
 glad in heart and thought. By that she had 
 kissed the stout knight three times. 
 
 30. Then she takes her leave and leaves 
 him there, for more entertainment she could 
 not get from that man. When she was gone 
 Sir Gawain bestirs himself, rises and dresses 
 in noble array. He lays up the love-lace the 
 lady had given him, hides it full cleverly 
 where he can find it again. Then promptly 
 he takes his way to the chapel; quietly ap- 
 proaches to the priest and prays him there 
 
 i Reading frynges for MB.fi/ngres; or we may keep 
 the text and translate, "wrought, embroidered, by 
 fingers." 
 
SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT 
 
 23 
 
 that he would elevate his life, and teach 
 him better how his soul should be saved 
 when he should go heuce. Then be shrives 
 him cleanly and shows Lis misdeeds, both 
 the more and the less, beseeches mercy, and 
 begs for absolution. And the priest assoils 
 him thoroughly and set him as clean as if 
 doomsday had been due on the morrow. 
 And afterwards Gawain makes more mirth 
 among the fair ladies that day with comely 
 carols and all kinds of joy than ever he did 
 before, till the dark night. Everyone had 
 pleasure of him there, and said indeed that 
 he had never been so merry since he came 
 ! hither. 
 
 31. Now let him linger in that place, 
 where may love betide him. The lord is 
 still in the field leading his men. He has 
 overtaken this fox that he followed so long, 
 as he sprinted over a spinny to spy the ras- 
 cal, where he heard the hounds that has- 
 tened fast after him. Reynard came run- 
 
 1 ning through a rough grove, and all the 
 rabble in a rout right at his heels. The man 
 was ware of the game, and warily abode; 
 pulled out his bright brand and struck at 
 the beast; and he dodged from the sharp 
 weapon and would have turned; but a dog 
 seized him ere he could, and right before 
 the horse's feet they all fell on him and 
 worried this wily one with a great noise. 
 
 1 The lord lighted quickly, and caught him 
 forthwith; pulled him full hastily out of 
 the dogs' mouths, and holding him high over 
 his head, halloed fast; and there many fierce 
 hounds bayed him. Hunters hied them thith- 
 er with horns full many, ever blowing the 
 recheat 1 till they saw the hero. As soon as 
 his noble company was come, all that bare 
 
 t bugle blew at once, and all the others that 
 had no horns halloed. It was the merri- 
 est mute 2 that ever men heard — the rich 
 riot th-it there was raised for Reynard's 
 soul. They rewarded the hounds there, 
 stroked them and rubbed their heads; and 
 afterwards they took Reynard and turned 
 off his coat. 
 
 32. And then they hastened home, for it 
 ' was nigh night, blowing full stoutly in their 
 
 great horns. The lord alighted at last at 
 his dear home, found fire on the floor, and 
 the hero beside it, Sir Gawain the good, 
 that glad was withal among the ladies; in 
 
 1 The note that recalls all the dogs. 
 * Noise of the whole band. 
 
 their love he had much joy. He wore a 
 mantle of blue that reached to the earth; 
 his surcoat, that was softly furred, became 
 him well; and his hood of the same hung 
 on his shoulder. Trimmed all about with 
 fine fur were both. He met this good man 
 in the middle of the floor, and all joyfully 
 he greeted him, and goodly he said: " Now 
 I shall fulfill our covenant, that we have 
 just made, where no drink was spared." 
 Then he embraces the knight and kisses 
 him thrice with as much gusto and as sober- 
 ly as he could give them. 
 
 " By Christ ! " quoth the other knight, 
 " ye get much bliss in the profits of this 
 business — if ye drive good bargains ! " 
 
 " Of the bargain, no matter," quoth curt- 
 ly that other, " so long as the debts that I 
 owed are properly paid." 
 
 " Mary ! " quoth the other man, " my 
 offering is the worse, for I have hunted all 
 this day, and naught have I got but this 
 foid fox-fell; the fiend have the good ones! 
 And that is full poor to pay for such fine 
 things as ye have given me here, three such 
 rare kisses." 
 
 "It is enough," quoth Sir Gawain; "I 
 thank you, by the rood." And as they stood 
 there the lord told him how the fox was 
 slain. 
 
 33. With mirth and minstrelsy, with 
 meats at their will, they made as merry as 
 any men could. With laughing of ladies, 
 with merry jests, Gawain and the good man 
 were both as glad as if the court were mad, 
 or else drunk. Both the man and his retinue 
 made many jokes till the season arrived 
 when they must sever; the men had to go 
 to their beds at last. Then humbly this 
 gentle man takes his leave of the lord first; 
 and fairly be thanks him. " For such a joy- 
 ous sojourn as I have had here, for the 
 honor you have shown me at this high feast, 
 the high king reward you ! I can only give 
 you myself to be one of your men, if that 
 pleases you. For I must needs, as ye know, 
 proceed, tomorrow, if ye will grant me 
 some man to show, as you promised, the 
 way to the green chapel, as God will suffer 
 me to take on New Year's day the doom of 
 my fate." 
 
 " In good faith," quoth the good man, 
 " with a good will ! All that ever I prom- 
 ised you, I will perform." Therewith he 
 assigns a servant to set him in the way, and 
 
24 
 
 SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT 
 
 conduct him by the downs, that he should 
 without hesitation travel through the forest 
 and fare at the best in the woods. The lord 
 thanked Gawain for the worship he had 
 been willing to show him. Then the knight 
 took his leave of the beautiful ladies. 
 
 34. With care and with kissing he speaks 
 to them, and many earnest thanks he 
 presses upon them. And they returned him 
 the same again promptly; they entrusted 
 him to Christ with sighings full sad. After- 
 wards he graciously departs from the house- 
 hold; each man that he met he thanked him 
 for his service and his solace, and the vari- 
 ous pains with which they had been busy to 
 serve him. And each man was as sad to 
 sever from him there as if they had ever 
 dwelt worthily with that hero. Then with 
 people and with light he was led to his 
 chamber and blithely brought to bed to be 
 at his rest. Whether he slept soundly I dare 
 not say, for he had much to think of on the 
 morrow if he would. Let him lie there; he 
 was near what lie sought. If ye will be still 
 a while I shall tell you how they fared. 
 
 FYTTE THE FOURTH 
 
 1. Now nighs the New Year, and the 
 night passes. The day drives on to the dark, 
 as God bids ; but outside wild storms wak- 
 ened in the world; clouds cast the cold 
 keenly to the earth; with discomfort enough 
 to the naked, the snow from the north flew 
 sharply, and nipped the game. The bluster- 
 ing wind blew from the heights, and drove 
 each dale full of great drifts. The man who 
 lay in his bed heard it right well; though 
 he locks his lids, full little he sleeps. By 
 each cock that crew he knew well the hour. 
 Promptly he leaped up ere the day sprang, 
 for there was the light of a lamp that 
 gleamed in his chamber. He called to his 
 chamberlain, who quickly answered him, 
 and bade him bring his burnie and saddle 
 his horse. The chamberlain gets up and 
 fetches him his weeds, and arrays Sir 
 Gawain in proper fashion. First he dressed 
 him in his clothes to keep out the cold, and 
 then he put on the rest of his harness, that 
 had been well kept, both mail and plate, 
 and brightly polished. The rings of his rich 
 burnie had been rocked from the rust, 1 and 
 all was fresh as at first; and Gawain was 
 i That is, In a barrel of sand. 
 
 fain to give thanks for it. The attendant 
 had wiped each piece well and often. Then 
 the noblest man betwixt here and Greece 
 bade his steed be brought. 
 
 2. Meanwhile, he threw upon himself his 
 finest weeds ; his surcoat with its cogni- 
 sance of excellent work, virtuous stones set 
 upon velvet, all wrought about and bound 
 with embroidered seams, and fairly furred 
 within with rare skins. Yet left he not the 
 lace, the lady's gift, — that forgot not 
 Gawain for his own good. When he had 
 belted his brand upon his broad haunches, 
 he dressed his love-token double about him, 
 the knight swathed sweetly about his waist 
 the girdle of green silk, which became him 
 well, upon the royal red cloth that was fair to 
 see. But this hero wore not the girdle for 
 its wealth, for pride of the pendants, though 
 they were polished, and though the glitter- 
 ing gold gleamed on the ends; but to save 
 himself when it behoved him to suffer, to 
 await his doom without resistance, with no 
 brand or knife to defend him. By this the 
 good man is ready and goes out quickly. 
 Full often he thanks the distinguished com- 
 pany. 
 
 3. Gringolet the huge and strong was 
 ready, who had been kept skilfully in the 
 safest manner. The proud horse in his 
 splendid condition longed for spurring. 
 The hero approached him, noticed his coat, 
 and said soberly, and by his sooth swore — 
 " Here, in this castle, is a company that are 
 mindful of courtesy. The man who main- 
 tains them, joy may he have; the dear lady, 
 love betide her in this life, since they for 
 charity cherish a guest and uphold honor in 
 their hand. May the Being reward them 
 who holds the heaven on high — and also 
 you all. And if I might live any longer in 
 the world I should give you some reward if 
 I could." Then he stepped into stirrup and 
 strode aloft. His servant offered him his 
 shield; he put it on his shoulder. He spurred 
 Gringolet with his gilt heels, and the steed 
 jumped on the stone; no longer he stood 
 still, but pranced. Gawain's servant, who 
 bore his lance and helm, was by then on the 
 horse. "This castle I entrust to Christ; 
 may he give it aye good chance ! " 
 
 4. The bridge was let down, and the broad 
 gates unbarred and borne open on both 
 sides. The hero crossed himself quickly and 
 passed the boards, praised the porter, who 
 
SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT 
 
 2 5 
 
 knelt before him giving good day and pray- 
 ing God that he save Gawain. And so he 
 went on his way with his one man that 
 should teach him how to find that dismal 
 place where he should receive the rueful 
 blow. They rode by banks where boughs 
 are bare; they climbed by clitt's where the 
 cold clings; the sky was upheld, but it was 
 ugly beneath; mist hung on the moor and 
 melted on the mount; each hill had a hat, a 
 huge mist-cloak. Brooks boiled and broke 
 from the banks about, shattering sheer on 
 their shores where they showered down. 
 1 Dreary was the way, where they should 
 travel by the wood, till soon came the sea- 
 son when the sun rises at that time. They 
 were on a hill full high, the white snow 
 about them, when the man that rode beside 
 him bade his master abide. 
 
 5. " I have brought you hither, sir, at 
 this time; and now ye are not far from that 
 famous spot that ye have asked and in- 
 quired so specially after. But I shall say to 
 you forsooth, since I know you, and ye are 
 a man that I love well, if ye would work 
 by my wit ye should be the better for it. The 
 place that ye press to is held full perilous. 
 There dwells in that waste a wight the 
 worst upon earth; for he is stiff and stern 
 and loves to strike; and greater he is than. 
 
 » any man in the world, and his body bigger 
 than the four best that are in Arthur's 
 house, and bigger than Hector or any other. 
 He maintains that adventure at the green 
 chapel. There passes by that place none so 
 proud in arms but he dins him to death 
 with dint of his hand. For he is a man with- 
 out measure and uses no mercy; for be it 
 churl or chaplain that rides by the chapel, 
 monk or mass-priest, or any man else, he 
 likes as well to kill him as to go alive him- 
 self. Therefore I tell ye as truly as ye sit 
 in the saddle, come ye there ye shall be 
 killed — trust me well — though ye had 
 twenty lives to spend. He has dwelt here 
 full long and caused much strife in the 
 land. Against his sore dints ye cannot de- 
 
 * fend yourself. 
 
 6. " Therefore, good Sir Gawain, let the 
 fellow alone, and go away some other road, 
 for God's sake. Repair to some other coun- 
 try, where Christ may speed you; and I 
 shall hie me home again, and promise you 
 further — which I will swear by God and 
 all his good saints, so help me God and the 
 
 halidom and oaths enough — that I will 
 loyally conceal you, and never tell tale that 
 ever ye fled for any man that I know of." 
 "Gramercy," quoth Gawain. And sternly 
 he added. " Well worth thee, man, who 
 wishes my good; and I well believe thou 
 wouldst loyally conceal me. But if thou 
 kept promise never so faithfully, and I gave 
 up here, sought for fear to fly as you ad- 
 vise, I were a knight coward ; I could not be 
 excused. But I will go to the chapel what- 
 ever chance may fall, and talk with that 
 same man the tale that I like, be it good 
 or evil, as it pleases fate to have it. Though 
 he be a stern champion to cope with, and 
 armed with a club, full well can God man- 
 age to save his servants." 
 
 7. " Mary ! " quoth that other man, 
 " now thou sayest as much as that thou wilt 
 take upon thyself thine own destruction; if 
 it pleases thee to lose thy life, I shall not 
 let nor hinder thee. Have here thy helm 
 on thy head, thy spear in thy hand; and ride 
 down this same lane by yon rock-side till 
 thou be brought to the bottom of the rugged 
 valley; then look a little up the grassy slope 
 on thy left hand, and thou shalt see in that 
 ravine the chapel itself, and the burly man 
 on the field who keeps it. Now farewell in 
 God's name, Gawain the noble, for all the 
 gold in the world 1 would not go with thee 
 nor bear thee fellowship through this wood 
 a foot further." 
 
 At that the man turned his bridle in the 
 wood, hit the horse with the heels as hard 
 as he could; leaped over the land, and left 
 the knight there all alone. 
 
 " By God's self," quoth Gawain, " I will 
 neither grieve nor groan. To God's will I 
 am full obedient, and to him I have en- 
 trusted myself." 
 
 8. Then he spurs Gringolet and follows 
 the path; pushes in by a hollow beside a 
 thicket; rides through the rough slope right 
 to the dale; and then he looked about him, 
 and wild it seemed to him. He saw no sign 
 of dwelling anywhere around, but on both 
 sides high steep banks, and rough hunched 
 crags with projecting stones; the shadows 
 of the cliffs seemed to him terrible. Then 
 he paused and held back his horse, and oft 
 changed his cheer while seeking the chapel. 
 He saw none such on any side, and strange 
 it seemed to him. But soon, a little dis- 
 tance off on a grassy spot he descried a 
 
26 
 
 SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT 
 
 mound as it were, a smooth hill by the bank 
 of the stream near a ford of the flood that 
 ran there. The burn bubbled there as if it 
 were boiling. The knight urges his steed, 
 and conies to the bill; lights nimbly down, 
 and ties the rein and his rich bridle to a 
 tree by a rough branch ; then he turns to 
 the hill and walks about it, debating with 
 himself what it might be. It had a hole at 
 the end and on either side, and was over- 
 grown with grass in clumps everywhere, 
 and was all hollow within — nothing but an 
 old cave or a crevice of an old crag. He 
 could not understand it at all. " Alas, Lord," 
 quoth the gentle knight, "can this be the 
 green chapel ? Here about midnight the 
 devil might tell his matins." 
 
 9. "Now," quoth Gawain, "it certainly is 
 mysterious here; this oratory is ugly, over- 
 grown with herbs. Well it beseems the 
 wight clad in green hereto do his devotions 
 in the devil's wise. Now I feel in my five 
 wits it is the fiend that has made this bar- 
 gain with me, to destroy me here. This is 
 a chapel of mischance; may ill fortune be- 
 tide it ! It is the cursedest kirk that ever I 
 came in ! " 
 
 With high helm on his head, his lance in 
 his hand, he strides up to the rock of the 
 rude dwelling. Then he heard from that 
 high hill, in a rough cave, on a bank beyond 
 the brook, a marvellously savage noise. Lo, 
 the cliff clattered as though it would split, 
 as if one were grinding a scythe on a grind- 
 stone. It whirred and screeched like water 
 at a mill; it rushed and rang that it was 
 ruth to hear. 
 
 "By God," quoth Gawain then, "that 
 gear, I fancy, is being prepared to give me 
 a good reception. Yet though I must lose 
 my life, fear shall never make me change 
 colour." 
 
 10. Then the knight called full high: 
 " Who dwells in this place to keep covenant 
 with me ? For now the good Gawain is 
 passing right here. If any wight wishes 
 ought, let him come hither fast, now or 
 never, to fulfill his need ! " 
 
 " Abide ! " quoth one on the bank over 
 his head. " Thou shalt have in all haste 
 that which I promised thee once." 
 
 Yet he kept on with that noise sharply for 
 a while, turning and whetting, ere he would 
 come down. And then he crossed by a crag 
 and came from a hole, whirling out of a 
 
 dark place with a fell weapon — a Danish 
 axe new dight, to give the blow with. It 
 had fast to the helve a great head, sharp- 
 ened on the stone. Four feet long was the 
 weapon — no less, by that lace that gleamed 1 
 full bright. And the man in the green was 
 arrayed as before — both his skin and his 
 limbs, locks, and beard; save that on foot 
 he strides fairly on the earth. He set the 
 steel shaft to the stone and stalked beside 
 it. When he came to the water, where he 
 did not wish to wade, he hopped over on 
 his axe, and fiercely advanced, with sav- 
 age ferocity pacing the broad snow-covered 
 glade. Sir Gawain met the knight and 
 bowed to him, not at all low. The other 
 said, " Now, sweet sir, in a covenant a man 
 can trust thee." 
 
 11. " Gawain," quoth the green warrior, 
 " may God preserve thee. Indeed thou art 
 welcome, hero, to my place; and thou hast 
 timed thy travel as a true man should. And < ] 
 thou knowest the covenants made between 
 
 us; at this time twelve month, thou tookest 
 what fell to thee, — and I at this New Year 
 was to repay you handsomely. And now we 
 are in this valley entirely alone; here are 
 no men to partus, however we may behave. 
 Have thy helm off thy head, and have here 
 thy pay. Make no more debate than I of- 
 fered thee then, when thou whipped off my 
 head at one blow." 
 
 "Nay," quoth Gawain, "by God that 
 lent me life, I shall grudge thee not a whit 
 whatever misf ortune falls. But arrange thee 
 for thy one stroke, and I shall stand still 
 and hinder thee not the least from doing 
 the work as you like." 
 
 He bent the neck and bowed down, show- i 
 ing the flesh all bare; and behaved as if he 
 cared not. For no dread would he flinch. 
 
 12. Then the man in the green got ready 
 quickly, gathered up his grim tool to smite 
 Gawain. With all the might in his body he 
 bare it aloft, and aimed a savage blow as 
 though he wished to kill him. Had it driven 
 down as earnestly as he feinted, the ever 
 doughty one would have been dead of his 
 dint. But Gawain glanced to one side on 
 the gisarm as it came gliding down to slay 
 him there in the glade, and shrank a little 
 with the shoulders from the sharp iron. 
 The other warrior with a quick motion 
 withheld the bright weapon, and then he 
 reproved the prince with many proud words. 
 
SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT 
 
 27 
 
 "Thou art not Gawain," said the man, 
 "who is held so good, who never flinched 
 for any army by hill nor by vale; and now 
 thou Heest for fear before thou feelest any 
 harm. Such cowardice I never heard of 
 that knight. I neither winced nor fled, sir, 
 when thou didst strike, nor tried any tricks 
 in King Arthur's house. My head flew to 
 my foot, and yet I never budged; and thou, 
 ere any harm taken, art fearful in heart. 
 Wherefore the better man I ought to be 
 called for it." 
 
 " I flinched once," quoth Gawain, " and 
 will do so no more. Yet if my head should 
 fall on the stones, I cannot restore it. 
 
 13. " But make ready, sir, by thy faith, 
 and bring me to the point. Deal to me my 
 destiny, and do it promptly; for I shall 
 stand thee a stroke, and not start again till 
 thine axe has hit me — have here my troth." 
 
 "Have at thee then!" quoth the other, 
 and heaves it aloft, and aims as savagely 
 as if he were mad. He strikes at him 
 mightily, but touches the man not; for he 
 withheld his hand cleverly ere it could hurt. 
 Gawain awaits it properly and flinches with 
 no member, but stands still as a stone, or a 
 stump that is twisted into the rocky ground 
 with a hundred roots. 
 
 Then merrily spoke the man in the green: 
 "So, now thou hast thy lieart whole it be- 
 hoves me to hit. Now keep back the fine 
 hood that Arthur gave thee, and see if thou 
 canst keep thy neck whole from this stroke." 
 
 Said Gawain in great anger: " Why, thrash 
 on, thou wild man ! Thou threatenest too 
 long. I guess that thine own heart is timid ! " 
 
 "Forsooth," quoth the other warrior, 
 1 " thou speakest so fiercely that I will not 
 delay thine errand a bit longer." Then he 
 takes his stride to strike and knits both 
 brow and lip. No wonder Gawain mislikes 
 it and gives up all thought of escape. 
 
 14. Lightly he lifts his axe and lets the 
 edge come down fairly 6n the bare neck. 
 Yet though he smote rudely, it hurt him but 
 
 t little; only cut him on one side so that it 
 severed the skin. The sharp bit reached the 
 flesh through the fair fat, so that the bright 
 blood shot over his shoulders to the earth. 
 And when the hero saw the blood glint on 
 the snow, he leaped forth more than a 
 spear's length, eagerly seized his helm, cast 
 it on his head, threw his shoulders under 
 his fair shield, pulled out a bright sword 
 
 and fiercely spoke. Never in this world 
 since he was born of his mother was he half 
 so blithe. 
 
 " Cease, sir, of thy blow ! Offer me no 
 more. I have without strife taken a stroke 
 in this place; and if thou givest me more, I 
 shall promptly repay and yield quickly 
 again, trust thou that! Only one stroke falls 
 to me here. The covenant which we made 
 in Arthur's halls provided just that; and 
 therefore, courteous sir, now hold ! " 
 
 15. The warrior turned from him and 
 rested on his axe. He set the shaft on the 
 ground, leaned on the head, and beheld 
 how the doughty hero stood his ground 
 grimly, fully armed and devoid of fear. In 
 his heart it pleased him. Then with a great 
 voice, and a huge laugh, he spoke merrily 
 to the hero: "Bold sir, in this place be not 
 so savage. Nobody has here unmannerly 
 mishandled thee, nor done but according to 
 covenant made at the king's court. I prom- 
 ised thee a stroke and thou hast it; hold 
 thee well paid. I release thee of the rem- 
 nant, of all other rights. If I had been skil- 
 ful peradventure I could have given you a 
 worse buffet. First I menaced you merrily 
 with a pure feint, and gave thee no blow; 
 which was but justice, considering the cov- 
 enant which we made on the first night, and 
 which thou held with me trustily; for truly 
 all the gain thou gave me as a good man 
 should. The second feint this morning, 
 sir, I proffered thee, because thou didst kiss 
 my fair wife and didst hand the kisses over 
 to me ; for these two occasions I gave thee 
 here but two bare feints without harm. A 
 true man truly restores; such an one need 
 dread no harm. At the third time thou 
 didst fail ; and so take thee that tap. 
 
 16. "For it is my weed that thou wear- 
 est, that same woven girdle. Mine own 
 wife gave it thee, I know well, forsooth. 
 Now know I well thy kisses, and thy vir- 
 tues also. And as for the wooing of my 
 wife, I managed it myself. I sent her to 
 try thee, and truly it seems to me thou art 
 the most faultless hero that ever went on 
 foot. As a pearl is of greater price than 
 white peas, so is Gawain, in good faith, 
 compared with other gay knights. But in 
 this case, sir, you lacked a little, and loy- 
 alty failed you. But that was for no amor- 
 ous work, nor wooing either, but because 
 ye loved your life, — the less I blame you." 
 
2 S 
 
 SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT 
 
 That other brave man stood a great while 
 in a study; so stricken was he for grief that 
 he groaned within. All the blood of his 
 breast rushed to his face; and he shrank for 
 shame when the warrior talked. This was 
 the first word that the man spoke — "Cursed 
 be cowardice and covetousness both! In you 
 is villainy and vice, that destroy virtue." 
 Then he caught at the knot and loosed the 
 fastening ; fiercely reached the belt to the 
 warrior himself. "Lo! there is the decep- 
 tion, foul may it fall ! For fear of thy knock 
 cowardice taught me to make a truce with 
 covetousness, to forsake my nature, which 
 is generosity and loyalty, that belong to 
 knights. Now am I faulty and false, and a 
 coward have ever been. From treachery 
 and untruth ever come sorrow and care. 
 Here I confess to you, knight, that my con- 
 duct is all faulty. Let me but please you 
 now, and after I shall beware." 
 
 17. Then the other laughed and said 
 courteously: " I hold it quite remedied, the 
 harm that I had. Thou hast made a clean 
 confession, acknowledging all thy misdeeds, 
 and hast received the penance openly from 
 the point of my edge. I hold thee quit of 
 that plight, and purified as clean as if thou 
 hadst never forfeited since thou was first 
 born. And I give thee, sir, the girdle that 
 is gold hemmed. Since it is green, as is 
 my gown, Sir Gawain, ye may think upon 
 this same adventure where thou goest forth 
 among great princes; and this shall be a 
 genuine token among chivalrous knights of 
 the adventure of the green chapel, and ye 
 shall come again this New Year to my 
 dwelling, and we shall revel the remnant 
 of this rich feast full well." The lord 
 pressed the invitation and said, " With my 
 wife, who was your great enemy, I think 
 we shall reconcile you." 
 
 18. " Nay, forsooth," quoth the hero; 
 and seizing his helm, he took it off quickly 
 and thanked the warrior. " I have had a 
 good visit, bliss betide you; and may He 
 pay you well who directs all mercies. Com- 
 mend me to that courteous one, your comely 
 mate ; both the one and the other, my hon- 
 oured ladies, who have thus with their craft 
 quaintly beguiled their knight. But it is 
 no wonder that a fool should rave, and 
 through wiles of women be won to sorrow. 
 For so was Adam beguiled l>y one, and 
 Solomon by many, indeed ; aud Samson also, 
 
 Delilah dealt him his weird; and David 
 thereafter was deceived by Bethsheba, who 
 suffered much sorrow. Since these men 
 were plagued by their wiles, it were a huge 
 gain to love them well and believe them 
 not — if a person but could ; for these men 
 were of old the best, and the most fortu- 
 nate, excellent above all others under the 
 heavens; and all they were beguiled by 
 women whom they had to do with. 1 If I be 
 now deceived, meseems I might be ex- 
 cused. 
 
 19. " But your girdle," quoth Gawain, 
 " God reward you for it ! That will I keep 
 with good will; not for the precious gold, 
 nor the samite nor the silk, nor the wide 
 pendants, for its wealth nor for its beauty 
 nor for its fine work; but in sign of my 
 fault I shall behold it oft; when I ride in 
 renown I shall lament to myself the fault 
 and the deceit of the crabbed flesh, how 
 tender it is to catch stains of filth; and 
 thus when pride shall prick me for prowess 
 of arms, a look on this love-lace shall mod- 
 erate my heart. But one thing I would 
 pray you — may it displease you not — 
 since ye are lord of the land yonder where 
 I have stayed worshipfully with you — 
 may the Being who upholds the heaven 
 and sits on high repay you for it! — how 
 name ye your right name ? and then no 
 more." 
 
 « That shall I tell thee truly," quoth the 
 other then. " Bernlak de Hautdesert I am 
 called in this land through the might of 
 Morgen la Fay, who dwells in my house. 
 She has acquired deep learning, hard-won 
 skill, many of the masteries of Merlin ; — 
 for she has at times dealt in rare magic 
 with that renowned clerk, who knows all 
 your knights at home. Morgan the Goddess 
 is therefore her name; no person is so 
 haughty but she can tame him. 
 
 20. " She sent me in this wise to your rich 
 hall to assay its pride and try if it were 
 true that circulates about the great renown 
 of the Round Table. She prepared for me 
 this wonder to take away your wits, to have 
 grieved Guinevere and caused her to die 
 through fright of that same man, that 
 ghostly speaker with his head in his hand 
 before the high table. That is she, the 
 ancient lady at home. She is even thine 
 aunt, Arthur's half-sister, the daughter of 
 
 1 Ibis passage is none too clear. 
 
SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT 
 
 29 
 
 that Duchess of Tintagel upon whom dear 
 Uther afterwards begot Arthur, that is now 
 king. Therefore, I beg you, sir, to come to 
 thine aunt; make merry in my house ; my 
 people love thee, and I like thee as well, sir, 
 by my faith as I do any man under God 
 for thy great truth." 
 
 But he answered him nay, he would in 
 no wise. They embraced and kissed, each 
 entrusted other to the Prince of Paradise, 
 and they parted right there in the cold. Ga- 
 wain on horse full fair rides boldly to the 
 king's court, and the knight all in green 
 whithersoever he would. 
 
 21. Wild ways in the world Gawain now 
 rides on Gringolet, he who had got the 
 boon of his life. Oft he harboured in houses, 
 and oft without; and many an adventure in 
 vale he had, and won oft; but that I care 
 not at this time to mention in my tale. The 
 hurt was whole that he had got in his neck; 
 and he bare the glistening belt about him, 
 crossed obliquely like a baldric, the lace 
 fastened under his left arm with a knot, in 
 token that he was taken in a fault. And thus 
 he comes to the court, the knight all sound. 
 There wakened joy in that dwelling when 
 the great ones knew that good Gawain had 
 come; joyous it seemed to them. The king 
 kisses the kuight, and the queen also; and 
 afterwards many a sure knight, who sought 
 to embrace him and asked him of his jour- 
 ney. And wondrously he tells it, confess- 
 ing all the trials that he had, the adventure 
 of the chapel, the behavior of the knight, 
 the love of the lady — and, at the last, the 
 lace. He showed them the nick in his neck 
 
 that he caught at the lord's hands for his 
 unloyalty. He grieved when he had to tell 
 it; he groaned for sorrow, and the blood 
 rushed to his face for shame when he de- 
 clared it. 
 
 22. " Lo ! lord," quoth the hero, as he 
 handled the lace, " this that I bear in my 
 neck is the badge of this blame. This is the 
 evil and the loss that I have got from the 
 cowardice and covetousness that I showed 
 there. This is the token of untruth that I 
 am taken in, and I must needs wear it while 
 I may last; for none may hide his shame 
 without mishap, for where it once is in- 
 curred, depart will it never." 
 
 The king and all the court comfort the 
 knight. They laugh loud at his tale, and 
 lovingly agree that the lords and ladies 
 that belong to the Table, each knight of 
 the brotherhood, should have a baldric, an 
 oblique band about him of a bright green, 
 and wear that for the sake of the hero. 
 And that emblem was accorded the renown 
 of the Round Table, and he was ever after 
 honoured that had it. 
 
 As it is told in the best book of romance, 
 thus in Arthur's day this adventure betid, 
 which the Brutus books bear witness of. 
 After Brutus the bold hero first came 
 hither, when the siege and the assault had 
 ceased at Troy, many adventures of this 
 sort happened. Now may He that bore the 
 crown of thorns bring us to his bliss. 
 AMEN. 
 
 HONY SOIT QUI MAL PENCE. 
 
WILLIAM LANGLAND(?) 
 
 THE VISION OF WILLIAM CON- 
 CERNING PIERS THE 
 PLOUGHMAN 
 
 version a 
 
 Prologue 
 
 In a summer season, when soft was the 
 sun, 
 
 I clad me in rough clothing, a shepherd as 
 I were; 
 
 In habit of a hermit, unholy of works, 
 
 Went I wide in this world, wonders to hear. 
 
 But on a May morning on Malvern Hills 
 
 To me befell a marvel, a fairy thing me- 
 thought. 
 
 I was weary of wandering and went me to 
 rest 
 
 Under a broad bank by a burn side; 
 
 And as I lay and leaned and looked on the 
 waters, 
 
 I slumbered in a sleep, it sounded so pleas- 
 ant. IO 
 Then did I dream a marvellous dream, 
 
 That I was in a wilderness, wist I not 
 where; 
 
 And as I beheld into the east, on high to 
 the sun, 
 
 I saw a tower on a hill-top, splendidly fash- 
 ioned ; 
 
 A deep dale beneath, a dungeon therein, 
 
 With a deep ditch and dark, and dreadful 
 to see. 
 A fair field full of folk found I there 
 between, 
 
 Of all manner of men, the mean and the 
 rich, 
 
 Working and wandering, as the world re- 
 quireth. 
 
 Some put them to the plow, and played 
 full seldom, 20 
 
 In plowing and sowing produced they full 
 hardly 
 
 What many of these wasters in gluttony 
 destroy. 
 
 And some gave themselves to pride, ap- 
 pareled them accordingly, 
 
 In fashion of clothing strangely disguised. 
 
 To prayer and to penance put themselves 
 many, 
 
 For love of our Lord lived they full hard, 
 
 In hope to have the bliss of heaven's king- 
 dom, ' 
 
 As anchorites and hermits that hold them- 
 selves in cells, 
 
 Covet not in the co.int"y to gad all about, 
 
 With luxurious living their body to please. 
 And some chose trade, to prosper the 
 better, 31- 
 
 As it seems to our sight that such men 
 
 should; t 
 
 And some mirth to make, as minstrels can, 
 
 And get gold with their glee, guiltless, I 
 trow. 
 But jesters and buffoons, Judas's chil- 
 dren, 
 
 Found for themselves fantasies and of 
 themselves fools made, 
 
 Yet have their wits at command, to work 
 if they will. 
 
 What Paid preached of them I dare not 
 prove here; 
 
 Qui loquitur turpiloquium, 1 he is Lucifer's 
 servant. 
 Askers and beggars fast about flitted, 40 
 
 Till their bags and their bellies brimful 
 were crammed; 
 
 Feigned for their food, fought at the ale- ^ 
 house; 
 
 In gluttony, God wot, go they to bed 
 
 And rise up with ribaldry, these bullying 
 beggar-knaves; 
 
 Sleep and sloth follow them ever. 
 
 Pilgrims and palmers pledge themselves 
 together 
 
 To seek the shrine of St. James and saints 
 
 at Rome; <• 
 
 Went forth in their way with many wise 
 tales, 
 
 And had leave to lie all their life after. 
 
 Hermits in a band with hooked staves 50 
 
 Went to Walsingham, and their wenches 
 after. 
 
 1 He who speaketh baseness. 
 
PIERS THE PLOUGHMAN 
 
 3i 
 
 Great lubbers and long, that loath were 
 
 to work, 
 Clothed themselves in capes to be known 
 
 for brethren, 
 And some dressed as hermits their ease to 
 
 have. 
 I found there friars, all the four orders, 
 Preaching to the people for profit of their 
 
 bellies, 
 Interpreting the gospel as they well please, 
 For covetousness of capes construes it ill; 
 For many of these masters may clothe 
 , themselves at will, 
 
 For money and their merchandise meet oft 
 
 together. 60 
 
 Since Charity hath turned trader, and 
 
 shriven chiefly lords, 
 Many wonders have befallen in these few 
 
 years. 
 /MJnless Holy Church now be better held 
 y up together 
 
 7 ' The most mischief on earth will mount up 
 
 fast. 
 \ There preached a pardoner, as he a priest 
 
 were, 
 And brought up a bull with bishop's seals, 
 And said he himself would absolve them all 
 From breach of fasting and broken vows. 
 The laymen liked him well, believed his 
 
 speech, 
 And came up kneeling and kissed his 
 
 bull ; 70 
 
 He banged them with his brevet, 1 and 
 
 bleared their eyes, 
 And purchased with his parchment rings 
 
 and brooches. 
 Thus ye give your gold gluttony to help, 
 And grant it to rascals that run after 
 
 lechery. 
 Were the bishop holy and worth both his 
 
 ears, 
 They should not be so brazen to deceive so 
 
 the people. 
 Yet it is not against the bishop that the 
 
 knave preacheth; 
 But the parish priest and pardoner share 
 
 the silver 
 That the poor parishioners should have but 
 
 for them. 
 Parsons and parish priests complain to 
 
 their bishops 80 
 
 That their parish hath been poor since the 
 
 pestilence 2 time, 
 
 1 Letter of indulgence. 
 
 * Probably the great plague of 1348-1349. 
 
 And ask leave and licence at Loudon to 
 
 dwell 
 To sing there for simony, 3 for silver is 
 
 sweet. 
 There hang about a hundred in hoods of 
 
 silk, 
 Sergeants, it seems, to serve at the bar; 
 Plead at the law for pence and for pounds, 
 Not for love of our Lord unloose their lips 
 
 once. 
 Thou mightest better measure the mist on 
 
 Malvern hills 
 Than get a mum of their mouth till money 
 
 be shown. 
 I saw there bishops bold and bachelors 
 
 of divinity 90 
 
 Become clerks of account, the king to 
 
 serve ; 
 Archdeacons and deacons, that dignity 
 
 have 
 To preach to the people and poor men to 
 
 feed, 
 Have leapt to London, by leave of their 
 
 bishops, 
 To be clerks of the King's Bench, to the 
 
 country's hurt. 
 Barons and burgesses, and husbandmen 
 
 also, 
 I saw in that assembly, as ye shall hear 
 
 hereafter. 
 Bakers, butchers, and brewers many, 
 Woollen weavers, and weavers of linen, 
 Tailors, tanners, and fullers also, 100 
 
 Masons, miners, and many other crafts, 
 Ditchers and delvers, that do their work ill, 
 And drive forth the long day with " Fieu 
 
 vous sauve, dame Emma." 4 
 Cooks and their boys cry " Hot pies, hot ! 
 Good geese and pigs, go dine, go dine ! " 
 Taverners to them told the same tale 
 With good wine of Gascony and wine of 
 
 Alsace, 
 Of Rhine and of Rochelle, the roast to di- 
 gest. 
 All this I saw sleeping, and seven times 
 
 more. 
 
 PASSUS I 
 What this mountain meaueth, and this dark 
 
 dale, 
 And this fair field full of folk, fairly I 
 shall you show. 
 ' Getting money singing anniversary masses for the 
 dead. 
 
 • " God save you, dame Emma " — apparently a popu- 
 lar Bong. 
 
32 
 
 WILLIAM LANGLAND 
 
 A lady lovely in face, in linen clothed, 
 Came down from the cliff, and called me 
 
 gently, 
 And said, " Son, sleepest thou ? Seest thou 
 
 these people 
 s -AH~how busy they be about vanity ? 
 The most part of the people that pass now 
 
 on earth, 
 If they have honour in this world, they care 
 
 for nothing better; 
 Of other heaven than here they have no 
 
 regard." 
 I was afraid of her face, though she fair 
 
 were, 10 
 
 And said, " Pardon, madame, what does this 
 
 mean ? " 
 " This tower and this hill," quoth she, 
 
 " Truth is therein, 
 And would that ye wrought as his word 
 
 teacheth, 
 For he is Father of faith, that formed you all 
 Both with skin and with face, and gave you 
 
 five senses 
 For to worship him therewith, while ye be 
 
 here, 
 And because he commanded the earth to 
 
 serve you each one 
 With woollen, with linen, with livelihood at 
 
 need, 
 In moderate manner, to put you at ease, 
 And commanded of his courtesy in common 
 
 three things, 20 
 
 Their names are needful and to name them 
 
 I propose 
 By rule and by reason, to rehearse them as 
 
 follows: 
 The one clothing is, from chill you to 
 
 save, 
 And the second meat at meals, against dis- 
 comfort of thyself; 
 And drink when thou art dry, but do it not 
 
 out of reason 
 So that thou be the worse when thou work 
 
 shouldest. 
 
 Dread delightful drink, and thou shalt do 
 the better: 32 
 
 Moderation is medicine, though you crave 
 much. 
 
 All is not good for the soul that pleaseth 
 the body, 
 
 Nor all food to the body that is dear to the 
 soul. 
 
 Believe not thy body, for a liar him teach- 
 eth 
 
 (That is, the wicked world) thee to be- 
 tray. 
 
 For the fiend and thy flesh follow together 
 
 And injure thy soul — set it in thy heart; 
 
 And that thou shouldest beware, I teach 
 thee the better." 40 
 
 " Ah, madame, mera," quoth I, " thy 
 words please me well. 
 
 But the money on this earth, that men so 
 fast hold, 
 
 Tell me to whom that treasure belongeth." 
 " Go to the Gospel," quoth she, " that 
 God speaks himself, 
 
 When the people asked him about a penny 1 
 in the temple, 
 
 If they should honor therewith Caesar their 
 king. 
 
 And he asked of them of whom spake the 
 lettering, 
 
 And whom the image was like that thereon 
 stood. 
 
 •Caesar,' they said, ' we see well, each one.' j 
 
 Reddite ergo quae sunt Caesaris Caesari et 
 quae sunt Dei Deo. 1 
 
 ' Then render,' quoth Christ, ' what to Cae- 
 sar belongeth, 50 
 
 And what is God's to God, or else ye do 
 ill.' 
 
 For Right Reason should rule you all, 
 
 And Common Sense be warden, our wealth 
 
 to guard, * 
 
 And tower of our treasure to give it you at 
 need; 
 
 For husbandry and he hold well together." 
 Then I asked her fairly, for [the sake of] 
 him that made her, 
 
 " That dungeon in that deep vale, that 
 dreadful is to see, 
 
 What may it mean, madame, I thee be- 
 seech," 
 •'That is the Castle of Care," quoth she; 
 " whoso cometh therein 
 
 May curse that he was born to body or to 
 soul. 60 
 
 Therein dwelleth a wight that Wrong is 
 called, 
 
 Father of falseness, — he founded it him- 
 self, i 
 
 Adam and Eve he egged on to do ill; 
 
 Counselled Cain to kill his brother; 
 
 Judas he cheated with the Jews' silver, 
 
 And on an elder tree hanged him after. 
 
 He is a hinderer of love, and lieth to all 
 those 
 
 1 Matthew, xxii, 20. 
 
PIERS THE PLOUGHMAN 
 
 33 
 
 That trust in their treasure, wherein is no 
 
 truth." 
 Then had I wonder in my wits what wo- 
 man it might be 
 That such wise words of Holy Writ me 
 
 showed ; 70 
 
 And I greeted her in the High Name, ere 
 
 she thence went, 
 What she might be indeed that taught me 
 
 so fairly. 
 "Holy Church I am," quoth she, "thou 
 
 oughtest to know me, 
 I received thee first, and thy faith taught 
 
 thee. 
 Thou broughtest me pledges my bidding to 
 
 do, 
 And loyally to love me, while thy life 
 
 lasted." 
 Then kneeled I on my knees and cried 
 
 to her for grace, 
 And prayed her piteously to pray for our 
 
 sins, 
 And eke to teach me kindly on Christ to 
 
 believe, 
 That I might work the will of Him that 
 
 made me a man. 80 
 
 "Show me no treasure, but tell me this 
 
 same: 
 How I may save my soul, thou that holy 
 
 art held." 
 " When all treasure is tested, truth is the 
 
 best; 
 I appeal to 'God is Love' to judge the truth. 
 It is as precious a jewel as dear God him- 
 self. 
 For whoso is true of his tongue, and telleth 
 
 naught else, 
 Doth his work with truth, and doth no man 
 
 ill; 
 He is accounted of the Gospel, on earth and 
 
 above, 
 And also likened to our Lord, by Saint 
 
 Luke's words. 
 Clerks that know it should teach it about, 90 
 For Christians and non-Christians, each 
 
 claims it for himself. 
 Kings and knights should conduct them- 
 selves reasonably, 
 And rightly roam the realms about, 
 And take trespassers and tie them fast 
 Till truth had determined the trespass to 
 
 the end. 
 For David, in his days, he dubbed knights, 
 Made them swear on their sword to serve 
 
 truth ever, 
 
 That is plainly the profession that per- 
 
 taineth to knights, 
 And not to fast one Friday in five score 
 
 years, 
 But to hold with men and women that 
 
 seek the truth, 100 
 
 And leave off for no love nor grasping of 
 
 gifts; 
 And he that oversteps that point is apostate 
 
 of the order, 
 For Christ, king of kings, knighted ten, 
 Cherubim and Seraphim, seven such and 
 
 another, 1 
 And gave them mastery and might, in his 
 
 majesty, 
 And over his army made them archangels, 
 And taught them through the Trinity truth 
 
 to know, 
 And to be obedient to his bidding, he bade 
 
 them naught else. 
 Lucifer with legions learned it in heaven. 
 He was loveliest to see, after our Lord, no 
 Till he broke obedience through boast of 
 
 himself. 
 Then fell he with his fellows, and fiends 
 
 they became, 
 Out of heaven into hell hobbled fast, 
 Some into the air, and some to the earth, and 
 
 some into hell deep; 
 But Lucifer lieth lowest of them all; 
 For pride that he put on, his pain hath no 
 
 end. 
 And all that work wrong, wend they shall, 
 After their death day, and with that devil 
 
 dwell. 
 But they that work that word that Holy 
 
 Writ teacheth, 
 And end, as I said before, in profitable 
 
 works, 120 
 
 May be sure that their souls shall to heaven, 
 Where Truth is in Trinity and crowneth 
 
 them all. 
 For I say certainly, in view of the texts, 
 When all treasure is tried, Truth is the best. 
 Teach it to the ignorant, for the lettered 
 
 know it, 
 That Truth is a treasure, the finest on 
 
 earth." 
 " Yet have I no natural knowledge," 
 
 quoth I, " thou must teach me better, 
 By what power in my body it beginneth, 
 
 and where." 
 " Thou dotest, dolt," quoth she, " dull are 
 
 thy wits. 
 
 » B C. A reads an al Ike four ordret, 
 
34 
 
 WILLIAM LANGLAND 
 
 It is a natural knowledge that tells thee in 
 
 the heart i 3 o 
 
 For to love thy lord liefer than thyself; 
 No deadly sin to do, die though thou 
 
 should est. 
 This, I trow, is Truth ! Whoso can teach 
 
 thee better 
 See that thou suffer him to say it, and then 
 
 teach it further ! 
 For thus teacheth us His Word — work 
 
 thou thereafter — 
 That Love is the liefest thing that our Lord 
 
 asketh, 
 And eke the plant of peace. Preach it to 
 
 thy harp 
 Where thou art merry at thy meat, when 
 
 men bid thee sing; 
 For from the heart's own wisdom springeth 
 
 the song. 
 That belongs to the Father that formed 
 
 us all, t4o 
 
 He looked on us with love, and let His 
 
 Son die 
 Meekly for our misdeeds, to amend us all. 
 And yet wished He no woe to them that 
 
 wrought Him that pain, 
 But meekly with mouth mercy He be- 
 sought, 
 To have pity on that people that tortured 
 
 Him to death. 
 Here thou mightest see example, in Him- 
 self alone, 
 How He was mighty and meek, that mercy 
 
 did grant 
 To them that hanged him high, and his 
 
 heart pierced. 
 Therefore I recommend the rich to have 
 
 ruth on the poor, 
 Though ye be mighty at law, be meek in 
 
 your works. 150 
 
 Eadem mensura qua men si fueritis, reme- 
 
 cietur vobis. 1 
 For the same measure that ye mete, amiss 
 
 or otherwise, 
 Ye shall be weighed therewith, when ye 
 
 wend hence. 
 For though ye be true of tongue, and hon- 
 estly win, 
 And eke as chaste as a child that in church 
 
 weepeth, 
 Unless ye live truly and also love the poor, 
 And such good as God sent truly share, 
 Ye have no more merit in mass nor in 
 
 hours 
 
 » Matthew, vii, 2. 
 
 Than Mawkin of her maidenhood that no 
 
 man desireth. 
 For James the gentle bound it in his book, 
 That faith without works is feebler than 
 
 nothing, 160 
 
 And dead as a doornail unless the deed 
 
 follow. 
 Chastity without charity — know thou in 
 
 truth — 
 Is as useless as a lamp that no light is 
 
 in. 
 Many chaplains are chaste, who charity 
 
 have none; 
 No men than they are harder when they 
 
 are advanced; < 
 
 Unkind to their kin and to all Christians; 
 They devour their own alms and demand 
 
 ever more. 
 Such chastity without charity will be 
 
 claimed 2 in hell. 
 Curates that should keep themselves clean 
 
 in their bodies, 
 They are cumbered with care and cannot < 
 
 escape it, 170 
 
 So hard are they with avarice clamped to- 
 gether; 
 That is no truth of the Trinity, but treach- 
 ery of hell, 
 And a teaching of laymen more grudgingly 
 
 to give. 
 For these are words written in the evangel, 
 Date et dabitur vobis, 3 for I deal to you * 
 
 all 
 Your grace and your good bap, your wealth 
 
 to win, 
 And therewith acknowledge me naturally 
 
 for what I send you. 
 This is the lock of Love that letteth out my 
 
 grace 
 To comfort the careworn, cumbered with , 
 
 sin. 
 Love is the liefest thing that our Lord 
 
 asketh, 180 
 
 And eke the straight way that goeth into 
 
 heaven. 
 Therefore I say as I said before, in view of 
 
 these texts, 
 When all treasures are tried, Truth is the 
 
 best. * 
 
 Now have I told thee what Truth is, that 
 
 no treasure is better, 
 I may no longer linger; now our Lord keep 
 
 thee ! " 
 
 * B chained. 
 
 » Give and it shall be given unto you, Luke, vi, 38. 
 
PIERS THE PLOUGHMAN 
 
 35 
 
 PASSUS II 
 Yet kneeled I on my knees, and cried to 
 
 her for grace, 
 And said, '• Mercy, niadame, for the love 
 
 of Mary of heaven, 
 That bore the blessed babe, that bought us 
 
 on the cross, 
 Teach me the natural skill to know the 
 
 False." 
 " Look on the left hand," quoth she, " and 
 
 see where he staudeth, 
 Both False and Flattery, and all his whole 
 
 following ! " 
 I looked on the left side, as the lady me 
 
 taught ; 
 Then was I ware of a woman, wonderfully 
 
 clothed, 
 Trimmed with fur, the richest upon earth, 
 Crowned with a crown, the king hath no 
 
 better. 10 
 
 All her five fingers were furnished with 
 
 rings 
 Of the preciousest jewelry that prince ever 
 
 wore. 
 In red scarlet she rode, ribboned with gold, 
 There is no queen more gorgeous that on 
 
 earth quick is and alive. 
 "What is this woman," quoth I, "thus 
 
 wonderfully attired ? " 
 "That is Meed, 1 the maiden," quoth she, 
 
 "that hath me marred oft, 
 And lied about my lore to lords about. 
 In the Pope's palace she is as privy as myself; 
 And so should she not be, for Wrong was 
 
 her sire. 
 Out of Wrong she sprang to misfortune of 
 
 many. 20 
 
 I ought to be higher than she, for I am 
 
 better born. 
 Tomorrow is the marriage made of Meed 
 
 and False ; 
 Flattery, with fair speech, hath brought 
 
 them together, 
 And Guile hath persuaded her to grant all 
 
 his will. 
 And all is by Liar's leading that they live 
 
 together. 
 Tomorrow is the marriage made, true as I 
 
 tell thee, 
 That thou might'st know, if thou wilt, what 
 
 they all are 
 
 1 Meed is properly reward; but the signification here 
 varies from legitimate payment to gross bribery. It is 
 often best translated by "graft." 
 
 That belong to that lordship, the great and 
 
 the small. 
 Know them there if thou canst, and keep 
 
 thee from them all, 
 If thou desirest to dwell with Truth in his 
 
 bliss; 30 
 
 Learn His law that is so loyal, and then 
 
 teach it further. 
 I may no longer linger, to our Lord I com- 
 mend thee. 
 And become a good man, spite of greed, I 
 
 advise." 
 When she was gone from me, I looked 
 
 and beheld 
 All this rich retinue that reigned with 
 
 False 
 Were bid to the bridal on both of the sides. 
 Sir Simony is sent for, to seal the charters 
 That False or Flattery at any price had 
 
 g»t, 
 And dower Meed therewith, in marriage 
 
 for ever. 
 But there was neither hall nor house that 
 
 might harbour the people 40 
 
 That each field was not full of folk all 
 
 about. 
 In midst of a mountain, at the hour of 
 
 mid-morning 
 Was pitched a pavilion, a proud one for the 
 
 nonce; 
 And ten thousand of tents spread out be- 
 sides, 
 For knights from the country and strangers 
 
 about, 
 For assizers, for summoners, for sellers, for 
 
 buyers, 
 For ignorant, for learned, for laborers in 
 
 villages, 
 And for the flattering friars, all the four 
 
 orders, 
 All to witness well what the deed desired, 
 In what manner Meed in marriage was en- 
 dowed; 50 
 To be fastened with False, the fee was 
 
 levied. 
 Then Flattery fetched her forth, and to 
 
 False gave her 
 On condition that False shall sustain her 
 
 forever, 
 She to be obedient and ready his bidding 
 
 to fulfil, 
 In bed and at board, obedient and courte- 
 
 o\is, 
 And as Sir Simony shall say, to follow his 
 
 will. 
 
3* 
 
 WILLIAM LANGLAND 
 
 Now Simony and Civil Law stand forth 
 
 both, 
 Unfolding the dowry that Falseness made, 
 And thus began these men and bellowed 
 
 full loud: 
 " This know and witness, all that dwell on 
 
 earth, 60 
 
 That I, Flattery, endow False with that 
 
 maiden Meed, 
 To be present in pride, for poor or for 
 
 rich, 1 
 With the Earldom of Envy ever to last, 
 With all the Lordship [of Lechery] 2 in 
 
 length and in breadth; 
 With the Kingdom of Covetousness I crown 
 
 them together, 
 With the Isle of Usury and Avarice the 
 
 false, 
 Gluttony and great oaths I give them to- 
 gether, 
 With all delights and lusts the devil to 
 
 serve, 
 With all the service of Sloth I endow them 
 
 together; 
 To have and to hold, and all their heirs 
 
 after, 70 
 
 With the appurtenances of purgatory, into 
 
 the pains of hell: 
 Yielding for this thing, at the year's end, 
 Their souls to Satan, to send into pain, 
 There to dwell with Wrong, while God is 
 
 in heaven." 
 In witness of which thing Wrong was the 
 
 first, 
 Pierce the pardoner, a Pauline doctor, 
 Bett the beadle of Buckinghamshire, 
 Randolph the reeve of the Rutland district, 
 Taborers and tumblers and tapsters many, 
 Mund the miller and many more besides. 
 In the date of the devil 3 the deed was 
 
 sealed, 81 
 
 In sight of Sir Simony and by notaries' 
 
 signets. 
 Then tormented was Theology when he 
 
 this tale heard, 
 And said to Civil Law, " Sorrow on thy 
 
 head 
 Such a wedding to make to render Truth 
 
 wroth; 
 And ere this wedding be wrought, woe thee 
 
 betide ! 
 For Meed is a wealthy one, a maiden with 
 
 goods ; 
 
 IB To be prynees in pryde and pouerte to despise. 
 ' B C. * Presumably, in parody of Anno Domini. 
 
 God grant us to give her where Truth will 
 
 assign ! 
 And thou hast given her to a trickster, God 
 
 give thee sorrow ! 
 The text telleth not so, Truth knows the 
 
 sooth: 90 
 
 Dignus est operarius mercede sua ; 4 
 ' Worthy is the workman his hire to have;' 
 And thou hast bestowed her on False, fie 
 
 on thy law ! 
 For lechers and liars lightly thou trustest, 
 Simony and thyself injure Holy Church; 
 Ye shall abide it both, by God that me 
 
 made, 
 At one year's end when ye reckon shall; 
 He and these notaries annoy the people. 
 For well ye know, deceivers, unless your 
 
 wits fail, 
 That False is a schemer, a shirker of work, 
 And a bastard born of Beelzebub's kin. 100 
 And Meed is a jewelled one, a maiden of 
 
 gentry, 
 She might kiss the king for cousin, if she 
 
 would. 
 Work by wisdom and then by wit, 
 Lead her to London, where law is handled, 
 See if legally it be allowed that they* lie to- 
 gether, 
 And if the justice will adjudge her to be 
 
 joined with False. 
 Yet beware of the wedding, for wise is 
 
 Truth, 
 For Conscience is of his council, and know- 
 
 eth you each one; 
 And if he find such defect that ye with False 
 
 hold 
 It shall oppress your souls sorely at 
 
 last." iro 
 
 To this Civil Law assented, but Simony 
 
 would not 
 Till he had silver for his advice and his seal. 
 Then fetched Flattery forth florins enough, 
 And bade Guile go and give gold about, 
 And especially to these notaries that they 
 
 have no lack; 
 And fee False Witness with florins enough, 
 For he can master Meed and make her do 
 
 his will ; 
 For where falseness is often found, there 
 
 faith faileth. 
 When the gold was given, great were the 
 
 thanks 
 To False and to Flattery, for their fair 
 
 gifts. 120 
 
 * Luke, x, 7. 
 
PIERS THE PLOUGHMAN 
 
 37 
 
 Many came to comfort False against care, 
 And swore on holy relics, " Cease shall we 
 
 never 
 Ere Meed be thy wedded wife, through 
 
 wisdom of us all. 
 For we have so mastered Meed with our 
 
 smooth words 
 That she agrees to go with a good will 
 To London to look if the law will 
 Judge yon jointly to be joined for ever." 
 
 Then was False fain, and Flattery blithe, 
 And had all men called from the country 
 
 about 
 To array them ready, both burgesses and 
 
 sheriffs, 130 
 
 To wend with them to Westminster, to 
 
 witness the deed. 
 Then hunted they for horses to carry them 
 
 thither; 
 But Flattery fetched forth foals of the best, 
 And set Meed on the back of a sheriff 
 
 newly shod, 
 And False on a juror that softly trotted, 
 (For Falseness against the faith jurors 
 
 seduceth, 
 Through cumbering of covetousness, to 
 
 climb over truth, 
 That the faith is down trodden and falsely 
 
 defamed, 
 And Falseness is become a lord, and lives 
 
 as he likes) : 
 Flattery on a fair speech, full finely at- 
 tired; 140 
 For fair speech without faith is brother to 
 
 Falseness; 
 And thus jurors are summoned to serve the 
 
 false, 
 And fair speech for Flattery who many 
 
 deceives. 
 Then notaries who had no horses, annoyed 
 
 they were 
 That Simony and Civil Law should go on 
 
 foot. 
 Then said Civil Law, and swore by the rood, 
 That summoners should be saddled and 
 
 serve them each one; 
 " And have provisors appareled, in palfrey 
 
 wise, 
 Sir Simony himself shall sit on their backs, 
 And all deans and sub-deans as prancers 
 
 prepare 15° 
 
 For they shall bear bishops and bring them 
 
 to rest. 
 The people of the Paulines, for pleas in 
 
 the consistory, 
 
 Shall serve myself, who Civil Law am 
 
 called; 
 Put a cart saddle on our commissary, our 
 
 cart he shall draw, 
 And fetch our victuals from the fornicators; 
 And make of Liar a long cart, to draw all 
 
 these others, 
 Story-tellers and frauds that on foot re- 
 main." 
 Now False and Flattery fare forth to- 
 gether, 
 And Meed in the midst, and all the crowd 
 
 after. 
 Leisure I lack to tell the train that follows 
 
 them, 160 
 
 Of as many manners of men as on earth 
 
 live. 
 But Guile was leader and guided them all. 
 Soothness saw them well and said but little, 
 But pricked on his palfrey, and passed 
 
 them all, 
 And came to the king's court, and Con- 
 science told, 
 And Conscience to the king repeated it 
 
 again. 
 «' Now, by Christ," quoth the king, " if I 
 
 might catch 
 False or Flattery, or any of his fellows, 
 I would be wreaked on these wretches that 
 
 work so ill, 
 And have them hanged by the neck, and 
 
 all that maintain them; 170 
 
 No man on earth shall bail out 1 the least 
 
 of them, 
 But right as the law decides, let it fall on 
 
 them all. 
 And command the constable, that came at 
 
 the first, 
 To attack the traitors, in spite of any bribe; 
 I order you to fetter False fast, in spite of 
 
 any kind of gifts, 
 And to cut off Guile's head, let him go no 
 
 further; 
 And bring Meed to me, in spite of them all. 
 To Simony and Civil Law I send a warning 
 That Holy Church for them is harmed for 
 
 ever. 
 And if ye catch Liar, let him not escape 180 
 Being set on the pillory, in spite of any 
 
 prayer; 
 I bid thee watch for them well, let none of 
 
 them escape." 
 Dread at the door stood, and the din 
 
 heard, 
 
 » B C. meynprUe. A meyntene. 
 
33 
 
 WILLIAM LANGLAND 
 
 And quickly went he to warn the False, 
 And bade him flee fast, and his fellows too. 
 Then False for fear fled to the friars, 
 And Guile took to flight, in fear of death; 
 But merchants met him, and made him 
 
 abide, 
 Besought him in their shops to sell their 
 
 ware, 
 Apparelled him as a 'prentice, the people to 
 
 serve. 190 
 
 Lightly Liar leapt away thence, 
 Lurked through lanes, lugged about by 
 
 many. 
 He was nowhere welcome, spite of his many 
 
 tales, 
 But hunted out everywhere, and ordered 
 
 to pack. 
 Pardoners had pity, and took him indoors, 
 Washed him and wrung [his clothes], and 
 
 wound him in clouts, 
 And sent him on Sundays with seals to 
 
 churches, 
 And for pence gave pardon, pounds at a time. 
 This learned the leeches, and letters to him 
 
 sent. 
 To dwell with them, diagnoses to make. 200 
 Grocers spake witli him to look after their 
 
 wares, 
 For he had skill in their craft, and knew 
 
 many gums. 
 Minstrels and messengers met with him 
 
 once, 
 And held him back half a year and eleven 
 
 weeks. 
 Friars, with fair speeches, fetched him 
 
 thence; 
 That visitors might know him not, kept him 
 
 like a friar; 
 But he hath leave to leap out, as often as 
 
 he liketh, 
 And is welcome when he will, and dwells 
 
 with them oft. 
 And all fled for fear and flew into cor- 
 ners; 
 Save Meed the maiden, no man dared 
 
 abide; 210 
 
 But, truly to tell, she trembled for fear, 
 And wept, too, and wrung her hands, when 
 
 she was arrested. 
 
 PASSUS III 
 
 Now is Meed the maiden taken, and no 
 
 more of them all, 
 By beadles and bailiffs, brought to the 
 
 king. 
 
 The king called a clerk, I know not his 
 
 name, 
 To take Meed the maiden, and make her at 
 
 ease. 
 " I shall try her myself, and truly inquire 
 What man in this world would be dearest 
 
 to her. 
 And if she work by my wit, and my will 
 
 follow, 
 I shall forgive her the guilt, so help me 
 
 God ! " 
 Courteously the clerk then, as the king 
 
 commanded, 
 Took the maiden by the middle, and 
 
 brought her to the chamber. 10 
 
 There was mirth and minstrelsy to please 
 
 Meed withal. 
 Those that dwell at Westminster worship 
 
 her all. 
 Gently, with joy, the Justice soon 
 Repaired to the chamber where the lady 
 
 was, 
 Comforted her kindly, and made her good 
 
 cheer, 
 And said, " Mourn thou not, Meed, nor be 
 
 thou sorrowful, 
 For we will guide the king and thy way 
 
 shape, 
 For all the craft of Conscience, and scheme, 
 
 as I trow, 
 That thou shalt have both mi<iht and mas- 
 tery, and do what thou likest 
 With the king and the commons, and the 
 
 court too." 20 
 
 Mildly then Meed thanked them all 
 For their great goodness, and gave them 
 
 each one 
 Goblets of pure gold, and pieces of silver, 
 Rings with rubies, and riches enough, 
 The least of their company a mutton 1 of 
 
 gold. 
 Then took they their leave, these lordings, 
 
 of Meed. 
 With that there came clerks to comfort 
 
 the same: 
 " We bid thee be blithe, for we be thine 
 
 own 
 To work thy will, while our life lasteth." 
 Courteously then she promised them the 
 
 same, 30 
 
 To love them loyally and make them 
 
 lords, 
 And in consistory at court to tell their 
 
 names. 
 
 1 A gold coin. 
 
PIERS THE PLOUGHMAN 
 
 39 
 
 u No ignorance shall hinder thein, the most 
 
 ignorant that I love, 
 From being advanced ; for I am known 
 Where learned clerks are left in the 
 
 lurch." 
 Then came there a confessor, caped like 
 
 a fri;ir; 
 To Meed the maiden full meekly he bowed, 
 And said full softly, as if it were in shrift, 
 "Though learned and lay had all by thee 
 
 lain, 
 And though False had followed thee these 
 
 fifteen winters, 40 
 
 I shall absolve thee myself, for a load of 
 
 wheat, 
 And also be thy bawd, and bear well thy 
 
 erraud 
 Among clerks and knights, to bring down 
 
 Conscience." 
 Then Meed, for her misdeeds, to that 
 
 man kneeled, 
 > And shrove her of her sins, shamefully, I 
 
 trow. 
 She told him a tale, and gave him a noble — 
 To be her bedesman, and her bawd after. 
 Then he absolved her soon, and next to her 
 
 said, 
 " We have a window a-making, will cost us 
 
 full dear : 
 If thou woulJst glaze the gable, and grave 
 
 therein thy name, 50 
 
 Secure should thy soul be to dwell in 
 
 heaven." 
 "Knew I that," quoth the woman, "there 
 
 is neither window nor altar, 
 That I would n't make or mend, and my 
 
 name write thereon, 
 That each man should say, I should be sis- 
 , ter of your house." 
 
 But God to all good folk such graving 
 
 forbids, 
 And saith, Nesciat sinistra quid faciat dex- 
 
 tra : x 
 ' Let not thy left hand, late nor early, 
 Be aware what thy right hand works or be- 
 stows.' 
 But share it so secretly that pride be not 
 
 seen 
 Neither in sight nor in soul; for God him- 
 self knoweth 
 Who is courteous or kind, covetous or the 
 contrary. 60 
 
 Therefore, I teach you, lords, such writing 
 to leave, 
 
 1 Matthew, vi, 3. 
 
 The writing in windows of your good 
 deeds, 
 
 Or calling to God's people, when ye give 
 your doles; 
 
 Peradventure you have your hire for it 
 here. 
 
 For our Saviour it saith, and himself 
 preacheth, 
 
 A men dico vobis, receperunt mercedem suamj 2 
 
 ' Here verily they have received their re- 
 ward forthwith.' 
 Mayors and masters, and ye that are go- 
 betweens 
 
 'Twixt the king and the commons, to guard 
 the laws, 
 
 To punish on pillories, or on cucking-stools, 
 
 Brewers, bakers, butchers, and cooks, 70 
 
 For these are the men on earth that most 
 harm work 
 
 To the poor people that buy in small par- 
 cels. 
 
 They pilfer from the people privily and oft, 
 
 And grow rich through retailing, and buy 
 themselves rents 
 
 With what the poor people should put in 
 their bellies. 
 
 For if they acted honestly, they would not 
 build so high, 
 
 Nor buy burgh holdings, be ye certain. 
 
 But Meed the maiden the mayor she be- 
 sought 
 
 From all such sellers silver to take, 
 
 Or presents, not in pence, as cups of sil- 
 ver, 80 
 
 Rings with rubies, the retailer to favor. 
 
 " For my love," quoth the lady, " love them 
 well, each one, 
 
 And suffer them to sell somewhat beyond 
 reason." 
 
 But Solomon the sage, a sermon he made, 
 
 To amend mayors and men that guard the 
 law, 
 
 And told them this theme that I shall tell 
 now: 
 Ignis devordbit tabernacula eorum qui li- 
 benter accipiunt munera. 3 
 
 Among these lettered 4 men this Latin 
 meaneth 
 
 That fire shall fall and burn at the last 
 
 The houses and the homes of them that de- 
 sire 
 For to have gifts in youth or in eld. 90 
 
 * Matthew, vi, 2. 
 
 » Fire shall consume the tabernacles of bribery, Job, 
 xv, 34. 
 
 « A lewede. 
 
4° 
 
 WILLIAM LANGLAND 
 
 Now be ye ware, if ye will, ye masters of 
 
 the law, 
 For the truth shall be sought of your souls, 
 
 so help me God! 
 The toleration that ye grant such wrongs to 
 
 work. 
 While the chance is in your choice, choose 
 
 ye the best. 
 The king came from council, and called 
 
 for Meed, 
 And sent off quickly servants to fetch 
 
 her, 
 And brought her to the presence, with bliss 
 
 and with joy; 
 With mirth and with minstrelsy they 
 
 pleased her each one. 
 Courteously the king commence th to tell, 
 To Meed the maiden speaketh those words: 
 " Unwisely, I wis, wrought hast thou oft; 101 
 But worse wroughtest thou never than 
 
 when thou False took. 
 But I forgive thee this guilt, and grant 
 
 thee my grace; 
 Henceforth to thy deathday do so no more. 
 I have a knight called Conscience, come 
 
 lately from far, 
 If he wish thee to wife, wilt thou him 
 
 have ? " 
 "Yea, lord," quoth that lady, "Lord for- 
 bid I should other ! 
 Unless I bow to your bidding, hang me at 
 
 once ! " 
 Then was Conscience called to come and 
 
 appear 
 Before the king and his council, clerks and 
 
 others. no 
 
 Kneeling, Conscience to the king made 
 
 obeisance, 
 To know what his will was, and what he 
 
 would do. 
 •* Wilt thou wed this woman," quoth the 
 
 king, " if I will assent ? 
 She is fain of thy fellowship, and would be 
 
 thy mate." 
 "Nay," quoth Conscience to the king, 
 
 "Christ forbid it me! 
 Ere I wed such a wife, woe me betide! 
 She is frail of her flesh, fickle of her 
 
 tongue, 
 She maketh men misdo many score times; 
 Trusting to her treasure, find sorrow full 
 
 many. 
 To wives and widows wantonness she 
 
 teacheth; 120 
 
 Learneth them iechery that love her gifts; 
 
 Our father Adam 1 she brought down with 
 
 fair promise; 
 Poisoned popes, andimpaireth Holy Church. 
 There is no better bawd, by Him that me 
 
 made! 
 Between heaven and hell, in earth though 
 
 men sought. 
 She is wanton in her wishes, tale-bearing 
 
 with her tongue, 
 Common as the cart-road to knaves and to 
 
 all; 
 To priests, to minstrels, to lepers in hedges, 
 Jurors and summoners, such men her praise; 
 Sheriffs of shires were lost but for her. 130 
 She causeth men to lose their land, and 
 
 their lives after, 
 And letteth prisoners go, and payeth for 
 
 them oft. 
 She giveth the jailer gold and groats to- 
 gether, 
 To unfetter the false, to flee where they 
 
 like. 
 She taketh the true by the top, and tieth 
 
 him fast, 
 And for hate hangeth him that harm did 
 
 never. 
 They that are curst in consistory count it 
 
 not at a rush, 
 For she gives capes to the commissary, and 
 
 coats to the clerks; 
 She is absolved as soon as herself it pleas- 
 
 eth. 
 She may as much do in space of one month 
 As your secret seal in seven score days. 141 
 She is privy with the pope, as provisors 
 
 know; 
 Sir Simony and she put seals on the bulls; 
 She blesseth the bishops, though ignorant 
 
 they be. 
 Prebendaries, parsons, priests, she main- 
 tained!, 
 To keep lemans and concubines all their 
 
 life days, 
 And bring forth children against the laws 
 
 forbidding it. 
 Where she stands well with the king, woe 
 
 to the realm! 
 For she is favorable to False who tramples 
 
 Truth oft. 
 Barons and burgesses she brings into servi- 
 tude, 150 
 She bribes with her jewels, our justices she 
 
 ruins. 
 
 1 So Vernon MS. All others read Your father; i.e. 
 Edward II. 
 
PIERS THE PLOUGHMAN 
 
 4i 
 
 She lietli against the law, and hindereth it 
 
 so hard 
 That faith may make no headway, her 
 
 florins go so thick. 
 She leadeth the law as she liketh, and love- 
 days maketh, 
 Bewilderment for a poor man, though he 
 
 plead ever. 
 Law is so lordly and loath to make an end 
 Without presents or pence, it pleaseth full 
 
 few. 
 Learning and covetousness she coupleth 
 
 together. 
 This is the life of the lady, our Lord give 
 
 her sorrow! 
 And all that maintain her, mischance them 
 
 betide ! 160 
 
 For the poor may have no power to com- 
 plain though they suffer, 
 Such a master is Meed among men of 
 
 goods." 
 Theu mourned Meed, and made her moan 
 
 to the king 
 To have space to speak, hoping to succeed. 
 Then the king granted her grace with a 
 
 good will: 
 " Excuse thyself if thou canst, I can say no 
 
 more; 
 For Conscience hath accused thee, to dis- 
 miss thee for ever." 
 " Nay, lord," quoth that lady, "believe him 
 
 the worse 
 When ye know verily where the wrong 
 
 lieth. 
 Where mischief is great, lord, Meed may 
 
 help, 170 
 
 And thou knowest, Conscience, I came not 
 
 to chide 
 Nor to defame thy person with a proud 
 
 heart. 
 Well thou wittest, Conscience, unless thou 
 
 wilt lie, 
 Thou hast hung on my neck eleven times, 
 And also grasped my gold, and given it 
 
 where thou likedst. 
 Why thou art wroth now, seems to me a 
 
 wonder, 
 For yet I can, as before, honor thee with 
 
 gifts, 
 And maintain thy m.inhood, more than thou 
 
 knowest, 
 And thou hast foully defamed me, before 
 
 the king here. 
 For never killed I a king, nor counselled 
 
 thereto; 180 
 
 Nor did I ever as thou thmkest, 1 I appeal 
 
 to the king. 
 In Normandy was he not annoyed for my 
 
 sake; 
 But thou thyself, in truth, didst shame him 
 
 there, 
 Creptest into a cabin, to keep thy nails 
 
 from cold, 
 Thoughtest that winter would have lasted 
 
 ever, 
 And dreadedst to have been dead for a dim 
 
 cloud, 
 And hastedst homeward for thy belly- 
 hunger. 
 Without pity, pillager, poor men thou rob- 
 
 bedest, 
 And bore their brass on thy back to Calais 
 
 to sell. 
 There 1 stayed with my lord, his life to 
 
 save, 190 
 
 Made him mirth full much, to leave off 
 
 mourning, 
 Clapped them on the backs, their hearts to 
 
 embolden, 
 Made them leap for hope to have me at 
 
 demand : 
 Had I been marshal of his men, by Mary 
 
 of heaven ! 
 I durst have laid my life, and no less bet, 
 He 'd have been lord of that laud, in length 
 
 and in breadth; 
 And also king of that kith, his kin to help; 
 The least bairn of his blood a baron's peer. 
 Truly, thou Conscience, thou didst counsel 
 
 him thence, 
 To leave that lordship for a little silver, 200 
 That is the richest realm that the rain falls 
 
 upon ! 
 It becometh a king who keepeth a realm 
 To give meed to men that meekly him 
 
 serve ; 
 To aliens, to all men, to honor them with 
 
 gifts. 
 Meed maketh him beloved and held to be 
 
 a man. 
 Emperors and earls, and all manner of lords, 
 Through gifts get young men to run and 
 
 to ride. 
 The pope and his prelates presents receive, 
 And give men meed to maintain their laws. 
 Servants for their service — ye see well the 
 
 truth — no 
 
 Get meed from their masters as they may 
 
 agree. 
 
 1 A dust ; B demest. 
 
42 
 
 WILLIAM LANGLAND 
 
 Beggars for their prayers beg men for 
 
 meed, 
 Minstrels for their mirth ask for meed. 
 The king gives meed to his men to make 
 
 peace in the land; 
 Men that teach children 1 meed from them 
 
 crave. 
 Priests that preach to the people to be 
 
 good 
 Ask meed and mass-pence and their meat 
 
 too. 
 All kinds of craftsmen crave meed for their 
 
 'prentices ; 
 Meed and merchandise must needs go to- 
 gether. 
 There may no wight, as I ween, without 
 meed live." 220 
 
 " Now," quoth the king to Conscience, " by 
 
 Christ, as methinks, 
 Meed is worthy much mastery to have!" 
 " Nay," quoth Conscience to the king, and 
 
 kneeled to the ground; 
 " There be two kinds of meed, my lord, by 
 
 thy leave. 
 The one good God of His grace giveth, in 
 
 His bliss, 
 To them that work well while they are 
 
 here. 
 The prophet preached it, and put in the 
 
 Psalter, 
 Qui pecuniam suam non dedlt ad usuram, 
 
 etc. 2 
 Take no meed, my lord, from men that are 
 
 true ; 
 Love them, believe them, for our Lord of 
 
 heaven's love. 
 God's meed and His mercy therewith thou 
 
 mayst win. 230 
 
 But there is a meed without measure 
 
 that desireth mastery, 
 To maintain misdoers meed do they take; 
 And thereof saith the Psalter in the end of 
 
 the Psalms, 
 In quorum manibus iniquitates sunt • dextra 
 
 eorum repleta est muneribus ; 8 
 That their right hand is heaped full of 
 
 gifts, 
 And they that grasp their gifts, so help me 
 
 God! 
 They shall abide it bitterly, or the Book 
 
 lieth. 
 
 1 B. A knowelh clerkes. 
 
 s He that putteth not out his money to usury . . . 
 shall never be moved. Psalms, xv, 5. 
 
 3 In whose hands is mischief, and their right hand 
 ia full of bribes. Psalms, xxvi, 10. 
 
 Priests and parsons, that pleasure desire 
 And take meed and money for masses that 
 
 they sing, 
 Shall have reward in this world, as Mat- 
 thew hath granted : 
 A men dico vobis, receperunt mercedem suam.* \ 
 What laborers and low folk get from their 
 
 masters 240 
 
 Is no manner of meed, but moderate hire. 
 In merchandise is no meed, I may it well 
 
 avow; 
 It is a permutation, one penny for another. 
 But didst thou never read Kings, 6 thou re- 
 creant Meed, 
 Why vengeance fell on Saul and his chil- 
 dren ? 
 God sent to say, by Samuel's mouth, 
 That Agag and Amalek, and all his people 
 
 after, 
 Should die for a deed that his ancestors 
 
 had done, 
 Against Israel, and Aaron, and Moses his 
 
 brother. 
 Samuel said to Saul, 'God sendeth thee 
 
 commandment 250 
 
 To be obedient and ready his bidding to 
 
 do: 
 " Wend thither with thy host women to kill, 
 Children and churls, chop them to death; 
 Look thou kill the king, covet not his goods 
 For millions of money; murder them each 
 
 one, 
 Men and beasts, burn them all to ashes." ' 
 And because he killed not the king, as 
 
 Christ himself commanded, 
 Coveted fair cattle, and killed not his 
 
 beasts, 
 But brought with him the beasts, as the 
 
 Bible telleth, 
 God sent to say that Saul should die, 260 5 
 And all his seed for that sin shamefully 
 
 end. 
 Such a mischief Meed made the king to 
 
 have, 
 That God hated him ever, and his heirs 
 
 after. 
 The conclusion of this clause care I not to 
 
 show, 
 In case it should annoy me; an end will I 
 
 make: 
 And even as Agag had it, to some will it 
 
 happen; 
 
 < Verily I say unto you, they have received their re- 
 ward, Matthew, vi, 2. 
 * 1 Samuel, xv. 
 
PIERS THE PLOUGHMAN 
 
 43 
 
 Samuel will slay him, and Saul will be 
 
 blamed, 
 David shall be diademed and daunt them all, 
 And one Christian king keep us each one. 
 Conscience knoweth this, for common sense 
 
 me taught 270 
 
 That Reason shall reign, and realms govern; 
 Meed shall no more be master on earth, 
 But Love and Lowness and Loyalty to- 
 gether. 
 And on him that trespasseth against Truth, 
 
 or doth against his will, 
 Loyalty shall execute the law, or he shall 
 
 lose his life. 
 Shall no sergeant for that service wear a 
 
 silk hood, 
 Nor any striped robe with rich fur. 
 Meed, from the misdoers, maketh men so 
 
 rich > 
 
 That Law is become a lord, and Loyalty is 
 
 poor. 
 Unkindness is commander, and Kindness is 
 
 banished. 280 
 
 But Common Sense shall come yet, and 
 
 Conscience together, 
 And make of Law a laborer, such Love 
 
 shall arise." 
 
 PASSUS IV 
 
 " Cease," said the king, " I suffer you no 
 
 more. 
 Ye shall be reconciled in truth, and serve 
 
 me both. 
 Kiss her," quoth the king, " Conscience, I 
 
 command." 
 "Nay, by Christ," quoth Conscience, "I 
 
 take my leave rather ! 
 Unless Reason advise me thereto, first will 
 
 I die ! " 
 ' " And I command thee," quoth the king to 
 
 Conscience then, 
 " That thou haste thee to ride, and Reason 
 
 thou fetch ; 
 Command him that he come, my counsel to 
 
 hear. 
 For he shall rule my realm, and advise me 
 
 the best 
 About Meed and others, and what man 
 
 shall wed her; 10 
 
 And take care, Conscience, so help me 
 
 Christ 1 
 How thou leadest my people, learned and 
 
 lay." 
 «* I am pleased with that promise," said the 
 
 fellow then, 
 
 And rode right to Reason, and whispered 
 
 in his ear, 
 Said as the king sent, and then took his 
 
 leave. 
 " I shall array me to ride," quoth Reason, 
 
 " rest thee awhile," — 
 And called Cato his servant, courteous of 
 
 speech — 
 " Set my saddle upon Suffer-till-I-see-my- 
 
 time, 
 And look thou girth him well with very 
 
 many girths; 
 Hang on him a heavy bridle to bear his 
 
 head low; 20 
 
 Yet will he make many a neigh, ere he 
 
 come there." 
 Then Conscience on his steed rideth forth 
 
 fast, 
 And Reason with him rideth, hurrying hard, 
 But on a wain Witty and Wisdom together 
 Followed them fast, for they had to do 
 In Exchequer and Chancery, to be dis- 
 charged of things; 
 And rode fast, for Reason must advise 
 
 them how best 
 To save themselves from shame and from 
 
 harm. 
 But Conscience came first to court by a mile, 
 And ran forward with Reason, right to the 
 
 king. 30 
 
 Courteously the king then came to Rea- 
 son, 
 Between himself and his son set him on the 
 
 bench, 
 And consulted a great while wisely to- 
 gether. 
 Then Peace came to parliament, put up 
 
 petition, 
 How that Wrong against his will his wife 
 
 had taken, 
 And how he ravished Rose, Reynald's love, 
 And Margaret of her maidenhood, for all 
 
 she could do. 
 " Both my geese and my pigs his fellows 
 
 fetched away; 
 I dare not for dread of them fight nor 
 
 chide. 
 He borrowed of me Bayard, and brought 
 him again never, 40 
 
 Nor any farthing for him, for aught that I 
 
 could plead. 
 He maintaineth his men to murder mine 
 
 own, 
 Forestalled me at fairs, brawleth at my 
 bargainings, 
 
44 
 
 WILLIAM LANGLAND 
 
 Breaketh in my baru-door, and beareth 
 
 away my wheat, 
 And givetb me but a tally for ten quarter 
 
 of oats. 
 And yet he beat me besides, and lieth by 
 
 my maiden; 
 I am not so hardy to look him in the face." 
 The king knew he said sooth, for Conscience 
 
 him told. 
 Wrong was a-feared then, and Wisdom 
 
 sought 
 To make his peace with pence, and prof- 
 fered forth money, 50 
 And said, " Had I love from the king, little 
 
 would I reck 
 Though Peace and his power complained on 
 
 me ever." 
 Wisdom went then, and so did Wit, 
 Because Wrong had done so wicked a deed, 
 And warned Wrong then, with such a wise 
 
 tale : — 
 "Whoso worketh wilfully maketh wrath oft: 
 I say it about thyself, thou shalt it soon find. 
 Unless Meed make it right, thy ill-luck is 
 
 on thee, 
 For both thy life and thy land lie in the 
 
 king's grace." 
 Wrong then to Wisdom wept for help, 60 
 Him for his handy-dandy 1 readily he paid. 
 Then Wisdom and Wit went together 
 And took Meed with them, mercy to win. 
 Peace put forth his head, showed his bloody 
 
 poll: 
 " Without guilt, God wot, got I this harm." 
 Conscience and tha king knew the truth, 
 Knew well that Wrong was a wicked one 
 
 ever. 
 But Wisdom and Wit were zealous and 
 
 eager 
 To overcome the king with money if they 
 
 might. 
 The king swore then, by Christ, and by his 
 
 crown both, 7 o 
 
 That Wrong for his works should woe suffer, 
 And commanded a constable to cast him in 
 
 irons : 
 " He shall not these seven years see his feet 
 
 once." 
 " God wot," quoth Wisdom, "that were not 
 
 the best; 
 If he amends make, let him give surety; 
 To be a pledge for his bale, 2 and buy him 
 
 boot, 8 
 
 1 Probably, corrupt influence. 
 
 * Injury, harm done. > Redress. 
 
 And amend his misdeed, and be always the 
 
 better." 
 Wit accorded herewith and said to him the 
 
 same; 
 " It is better that Boot should bring down 
 
 Bale 
 Than that Bale be beaten and Boot be 
 
 ne'er the better." 80 
 
 Then Meed humbled herself and mercy be- 
 sought, 
 And proffered Peace a present all of pure 
 
 red gold: 
 " Have this from me," quoth she, " to amend 
 
 thy harm with, 
 For I will wager for Wrong, he will do so 
 
 no more." 
 Peace then pitifully prayed the king 
 To have mercy on that man, that harmed 
 
 him oft; 
 " Because he hath pledged me amends, as 
 
 Wisdom him taught, 
 I forgive him that guilt, with a good- will; 
 So that ye assent thereto, I can no more 
 
 say, 
 For Meed hath made me amends, I may no 
 
 more ask." 90 
 
 " Nay," quoth the king then, " so God give 
 
 me bliss ! 
 Wrong wendeth not so away, till I wot 
 
 more; 
 Leapt he so lightly away, laugh he would 
 And again be the bolder to beat my serv- 
 ants; 
 Unless Reason have ruth on him, he re- 
 
 maineth in the stocks 
 As long as I live, unless more love change 
 
 it." 
 Then some advised Reason to have ruth 
 
 of that rascal, 
 And to counsel the king and Conscience 
 
 both; 
 That Meed might be surety, Reason they 
 
 besoiight. 
 " Advise me not," quoth Reason, " ruth to 
 
 have, 100 
 
 Till lords and ladies all love truth, 
 Till Peronelle's fur be put in her box, 
 Till over-cherished children be chastened 
 
 with rods, 
 Till the holiness of ribalds be held [com- 
 mon] as a hind; 
 Till clerks and knights be courteous with 
 
 their mouths 
 And hate to do their ribaldry, and use it no 
 
 more; 
 
PIERS THE PLOUGHMAN 
 
 45 
 
 Till priests their preaching prove in them- 
 selves, 
 And do it in deed, to draw us to God; 
 Till Saint James be sought where I shall 
 
 ordain, 
 And no man go to Galicia, unless he go 
 
 for ever; no 
 
 And no Rome-runners for robbers abroad 
 Bear over sea silver tbat bearetb the king's 
 
 stamp, 
 Neither groats nor gold graven with the 
 
 king's crown, 
 Upon forfeit of that fee, whoever finds it at 
 
 Dover, 
 Unless it be a merchant or his men, or mes- 
 senger with letters, 
 Or provisors or priests that popes advance. 
 " And yet," quoth Reason, " by the rood, 
 
 I shall no ruth have, 
 While Meed hath any mastery to plead in 
 
 this hall ; 
 But I may show you examples, I say it of 
 
 myself. 
 For I say it for my soul's sake, if it so 
 
 were 120 
 
 That I were king with crown, to keep a 
 
 realm, 
 Should never Wrong in this world, that I 
 
 might know of, 
 Be unpunished by my power, on peril of my 
 
 soul ! 
 Nor get grace through gift, so help me God ! 
 Nor for meed get mercy, unless meekness 
 
 cause it. 
 For Nullum Malum, the man, met with Im- 
 
 punitum, 
 And bade Nullum Bonum be irremuneratum. 1 
 Let thy clerk, sir king, construe this in 
 
 English; 
 And if thou workest it wisely I wager both 
 
 my ears 
 That Law shall be a laborer and cart dung 
 
 a-fielfl, 130 
 
 And Love shall lead thy land, as it dearly 
 
 pleaseth thee." 
 Clerks that were confessors got together 
 
 in couples 
 For to construe this clause, and explain it 
 
 after. 
 When Reason to these men rehearsed these 
 
 words, 
 Was none in that courtroom, great or small, 
 That held not Reason a master there, and 
 
 Meed a great wretch. 
 ; 1 No evil unpunished ; no good unrewarded. 
 
 Love made light of Meed, and laughed her 
 
 to scorn, 
 And said it so loud that Soothness it heard: 
 " Whoso wisheth her to wife, for wealth of 
 
 her goods, 
 Unless he be picked for a cuckold, cut off 
 
 both mine ears I " 140 
 
 Was neither Wisdom then, nor Witty his 
 
 fellow, 
 That could utter a word, to gainsay Reason; 
 But stared in a brown study and stood as 
 
 beasts. 
 The king accorded, by Christ, to Reason's 
 
 cunning, 
 And repeated what Reason had rightly 
 
 shown : 
 " But it is hard, by mine bead, to bring it 
 
 hereto, 
 All my lieges to lead in this level way." 
 " By Him that was stretched on the rood," 
 
 quoth Reason to the king, 
 " Unless I rule thus thy realm, rend out my 
 
 ribs ! 
 If it be so that obedience be at my com- 
 mand." 150 
 " I assent," quoth the king, " by Saint Mary, 
 
 my lady, 
 When my council is come, of clerks and of 
 
 earls. 
 But readily, Reason, thou ridest not hence, 
 For as long as I live, let thee go will I not." 
 " I am ready," quoth Reason, " to remain 
 
 with thee ever; 
 So that Conscience be our counsellor, care 
 
 I for no better." 
 " I grant gladly," quoth the king, " God 
 
 forbid he fail us, 
 And as long as I live, live we together." 
 
 PASSUS v 
 The king and his knights to the church 
 
 went 
 To hear matins and mass, and to the meat 
 
 after. 
 Then waked I from my winking, I was wo- 
 
 ful withal 
 That I had not heavier slept and seen more. 
 Ere I a furlong had fared, a faintness me 
 
 seized, 
 That further might I not a-foot, for default 
 
 of sleep. 
 I sat softly adown, and said my creed, 
 And so I babbled on my beads that it 
 
 brought me asleep. 
 Then saw I much more than I before told, 
 
46 
 
 WILLIAM LANGLAND 
 
 For I saw the field full of folk that I before 
 
 showed, IO 
 
 And Conscience with a cross came to preach. 
 
 He prayed the people to have pity on 
 
 themselves, 
 And proved that these pestilences were for 
 
 pure sin, 
 And this southwestern wind on a Saturday 
 
 at even 
 Was clearly for pride, and for no cause 
 
 else, 
 Peartrees and plumtrees were dashed to 
 
 the ground, 
 In ensample to men that we should do the 
 
 better. 
 Beeches and broad oaks were blown to the 
 
 earth. 
 And turned the tail upward in token of 
 
 dread 
 That deadly sin ere Doomsday should de- 
 stroy them all. 20 
 On this matter I might mumble full long, 
 But I say as I saw, so help me God ! 
 How Conscience with a cross commenced to 
 
 preach. 
 He bade wasters go work at what they best 
 
 could, 
 And win what they wasted with some sort 
 
 of craft. 
 He prayed Peronelle her fur-trimming to 
 
 leave, 
 And keep it in her coffer for capital at need. 
 Thomas he taught to take two staves, 
 And fetch home Felice from the cucking- 
 stool. 
 He warned Wat his wife was to blame, 30 
 That her head-dress was worth a mark and 
 
 his hood worth a groat. 
 He charged merehants to chasten their 
 
 children, 
 Let them lack no respect, while they are 
 
 young. 
 He prayed priests and prelates together, 
 What tbey preach to the people to prove it 
 
 in themselves — 
 " And live as ye teach us, we will love you 
 
 the better." 
 And then he advised the orders their rale 
 
 to obey — 
 " Lest the king and his council abridge your 
 
 supplies, 
 And be steward in your stead, till ye be 
 
 better ordered. 
 And ye that seek St. James, and saints at 
 
 Borne, 40 
 
 Pride 
 
 Lust 
 
 Seek me Saint Truth, for He can save you 
 
 all; 
 Qui cum patre etjilio, fare you well ! " 
 Then ran Bepentance and rehearsed this 
 
 theme, 
 And made William to weep water with his 
 
 eyes. 
 
 Pernel Proud-heart flung herself on 
 the ground, 
 And lay long ere she looked up, and to Our 
 
 Lady cried, 
 And promised to Him who all of us made 
 She would unsew her smock, and wear in- 
 stead a hair shirt t 
 To tame her flesh with, that frail was to 
 
 sin: 
 "Shall never light heart seize me, but I 
 
 shall hold me down 50 
 
 And endure to be slandered as I never did 
 
 before. 
 And now I can put on meekness, and mercy 
 
 beseech 
 Of all of whom I have had envy in my 
 
 heart." 
 
 Lecher said " Alas ! " and to Our 
 Lady cried 
 To win for him mercy for his misdeeds, 
 Between God himself and his poor soul, 
 Provided that he should on Saturday, for 
 
 seven j'ears, 
 Drink but with the duck and dine but once. < 
 _ Envy, with heavy heart, asketh after 
 
 shrift, 
 And greatly his guiltiness beginneth to 
 
 show. 60 
 
 Pale as a pellet, in a palsy he seemed, 
 Clothed in a coarse cloth, I could him not 
 
 describe ; 
 A kirtle and a short cloak, a knife by his 
 
 side; 
 Of a friar's frock were the fronts of his 
 
 sleeves. 
 As a leek that had lain long in the sun 
 So looked he with lean cheeks; foully he 
 
 frowned. 
 His body was swollen; for wrath he bit his 
 
 lips. 
 Wrathfully he clenched his fist, he thought j 
 
 to avenge himself 
 With works or with words, when he saw his 
 
 time. 
 " Yenom, or varnish, or vinegar, I trow, 70 
 Boils in my belly, or grows there, I ween. 
 Many a day could I not do as a man ought, 
 Such wind in my belly welleth ere I dine. 
 
PIERS THE PLOUGHMAN 
 
 47 
 
 I hav.e a neighbor nigh me, I have annoyed 
 
 him oft, 
 Blamed him behind his back, to bring him 
 
 in disgrace, 
 Injured him by my power, punished him full 
 
 oft, 
 Belied him to lords, to make him lose silver, 
 Turned his friends to foes, with my false 
 
 tongue; 
 His grace and his good luck grieve me full 
 
 sore. 
 Between him and his household I have 
 
 made wrath; 80 
 
 Both his life and his limb were lost through 
 
 my tongue. 
 When I met in the market him I most hate, 
 I hailed him as courteously as if I were his 
 
 friend. 
 He is doughtier than I, 1 dare do him no 
 
 harm. 
 But had I mastery and might, I had mur- 
 dered him for ever ! 
 When I come to the church, and kneel be- 
 fore the rood, 
 And should pray for the people, as the 
 
 priest teacheth us, 
 Then I cry upon my knees that Christ give 
 
 them sorrow 
 That have borne away my bowl and my 
 
 broad sheet. 
 From the altar I turn mine eye and be- 
 hold 90 
 How Henry hath a new coat, and his wife 
 
 another; 
 Then I wish it were mine, and all the web 
 
 with it. 
 At his losing I laugh, in my heart I like 
 
 it; 
 But at his winning I weep, and bewail the 
 
 occasion. 
 I deem that men do ill, yet I do much 
 
 worse, 
 For I would that every wight in this world 
 
 were my servant, 
 And whoso hath more than I, maketh my 
 
 heart angry. 
 Thus I live loveless, like an ill-tempered 
 
 dog, 
 That all my breast swelleth with the bit- 
 terness of my gall; 
 No sugar is sweet enough to assuage it at 
 
 all, 100 
 
 Nor no remedy drive it from my heart; 
 If shrift then should sweep it out, a great 
 
 wonder it were." 
 
 Covetousnass 
 
 " Yes, surely," quoth Repentance, and ad- 
 vised him to good, 
 " Sorrow for their sins saveth full many." 
 " I am sorry," quoth Envy, " I am seldom 
 
 other, 
 And that maketh me so mad, for I may not 
 
 avenge me." 
 
 Then came Covetousness, I 
 could not describe him, 
 So hungry and so hollow Sir Harvey looked. 
 He was beetle-browed with two bleared 
 
 eyes, 
 And like a leathern purse flapped his cheeks; 
 In a torn tabard of twelve winters' age ; m 
 Unless a louse could leap, I can not believe 
 That she could wander on that walk, it was 
 
 so threadbare. 
 " I have been covetous," quoth this Caitiff, 
 
 " I admit it here; 
 For some time I served Sim at 'The Oak' 
 And was his pledged apprentice, his profit 
 
 to watch. 
 First I learned to lie, in a lesson or two, 
 And wickedly to weigh was my second les- 
 son. 
 To Winchester and to Weyhill I went to 
 
 the fair 
 With many kinds of merchandise, as my 
 
 master bade; 120 
 
 But had not the grace of guile gone among 
 
 my ware, 
 It had been unsold these seven year, so 
 
 help me God ! 
 Then I betook me to the drapers, my 
 
 grammar to learn, 
 To draw the list 1 along, to make it seem 
 
 longer. 
 Among these rich striped cloths learned I 
 
 a lesson, 
 Pierced them with a pack-needle, and 
 
 pleated them together, 
 Put them in a press, and fastened them 
 
 therein 
 Till ten yards or twelve were drawn out to 
 
 thirteen. 
 And my wife at Westminster, that 
 
 woollen cloth made, 
 Spake to the spinners to spin it soft. 130 
 The pound that she weighed by, weighed a 
 
 quarter more 
 Than my balance did, when I weighed true. 
 I bought her barley, she brewed it to sell ; 
 Penny-ale and white perry, she poured it 
 
 together, 
 
 1 The edge of the cloth, in measuring. 
 
4 8 
 
 WILLIAM LANGLAND 
 
 For laborers and low folk, that work for 
 their living. 
 
 The best in the bed-chamber lay by the 
 wall, 
 
 Whoso tasted thereof bought it ever after, 
 
 A gallon for a groat, God wot, no less 
 
 When it came in cups. Such tricks I used. 
 
 Rose the retailer is her right name; 140 
 
 She hath been a huckster these eleven win- 
 ters. 
 But I swear now soothly that soon will I 
 quit, 
 
 And never wickedly weigh, nor false trade 
 practise, 
 
 But wend to Walsingham, and my wife 
 also, 
 
 And pray the Rood of Bromholm to bring 
 me out of debt." 
 
 „, . Now beginneth the Glutton to go 
 
 Gluttony to the shrift, 
 
 And wanders churchwards, his shrift to tell, 
 
 Then Bet the brewster bade him good mor- 
 row, 
 
 And then she asked him whither he would 
 go. 149 
 
 " To holy church," quoth he, " to hear mass, 
 
 Since I shall be shriven, and sin no more." 
 
 "I have good ale, gossip," quoth she; 
 " Glutton, what say you ? " 
 
 " Hast aught in thy purse," quoth he, " any 
 hot spices ? " 
 
 "Yea, Glutton, gossip," quoth she, "God 
 wot, full good; 
 
 I have pepper and peony-seeds, and a pound 
 of garlick, 
 
 A farthing worth of fennel-seed, for these 
 fasting days." 
 Then goeth Glutton in, and great oaths 
 after; 
 
 Cis the shoemaker's wife sat on the bench, 
 
 Wat the ward of the warren, and bis wife 
 both, 
 
 Tomkin the tinker and twain of his serv- 
 ants; 160 
 
 Hick the hackney-man, and Hogg the 
 needle seller, 
 
 Clarice of Cock's-Lane, and the clerk of the 
 church, 
 
 Sir Piers of Prie-Dieu, and Pernel of Flan- 
 ders, 
 
 Dawe the ditcher, and a dozen others. 
 
 A fiddler, a rat-catcher, a scavenger of 
 Cheapside, 
 
 A rope-maker, a riding-boy, and Rose the 
 dish-maker, 
 
 Godfrey of Garlickshire, and Griffin the 
 Welshman, 
 
 And of tradesmen a band, early in the 
 morning 
 
 Stand Glutton, with good-will, a treat in 
 good ale. 
 
 Then Clement the cobbler cast off his 
 cloak, 170 
 
 And at " the new fair " made offer to bar- 
 ter it; 
 
 And Hick the ostler flung his hood after, 
 
 And bade Bett the butcher act on his be- 
 half. 
 
 Then were chapmen chosen, the articles to ( 
 value ; 
 
 Whoso had the hood should have something 
 to boot. 
 
 They rose up rapidly, and whispered to- 
 gether, 
 
 And appraised the penny-worths, and parted 
 them by themselves; 
 
 There were oaths a-pleuty, whoso might 
 hear them. 
 
 They could not, in conscience, accord to- 
 gether, 
 
 Till Robin the rope-maker was chosen to 
 arise, 180 
 
 And named for an umpire, to avoid all de- 
 bate, 
 
 For he should appraise the pennyworths, 
 as seemed good to him. ) 
 
 Then Hick the ostler had the cloak, 
 
 On condition that Clement should have his 
 cup filled, 
 
 And have Hick the ostler's hood, and hold 
 him well served; 
 
 And he that first repented should straight 
 arise 
 
 And greet Sir Glutton with a gallon of 
 ale. * 
 
 There was laughing and cheating 1 and 
 " Let go the cup ! " 
 
 Bargains and beverages began to arise, 
 
 And they sat so till evensong, and sang 
 some while, 190 
 
 Till Glutton had gulped down a gallon and 
 a gill. 
 
 He had no strength to stand, till he his staff 
 
 had; 
 Then 'gan he to go like a gleeman's bitch, 
 Sometimes to the side, sometimes to the 
 
 rear, 
 Like a man laying lines to catch birds with. 
 
 » A lotcring ; B louryng ; C lakert/ng. 
 
PIERS THE PLOUGHMAN 
 
 49 
 
 When he drew to the door, then his eyes 
 
 grew dim, 200 
 
 He stumbled at the threshold, and threw to 
 
 the ground. 
 Clement the cobbler caught Glutton by the 
 
 middle, 
 And to lift him up he laid him on his knees; 
 And Glutton was a great churl, and grim 
 
 in the lifting, 
 And coughed up a caudle in Clement's lap, 
 That the hungriest hound in Hertfordshire 
 Durst not lap that loathsomeness, so un- 
 lovely it smacketh; 
 So that, with all the woe in the world, his 
 
 wife and his wench 
 Bore him home to his bed, and brought him 
 
 therein. 
 And after all this surfeit, a sickness he 
 
 had, 210 
 
 That he slept Saturday aud Sunday, till sun 
 
 went to rest. 
 Then he waked from his winking, and 
 
 wiped his eyes; 
 The first word that he spake was, " Where 
 
 is the cup ? " 
 His wife warned him then, of wickedness 
 
 and sin. 
 Then was he ashamed, that wretch, and 
 
 scratched his ears, 
 And 'gan to cry grievously, and great dole 
 
 to make 
 For his wicked life, that he had lived. 
 " For hunger or for thirst, I make my vow, 
 Shall never fish on Friday digest in my maw, 
 Till Abstinence, my aunt, have given me 
 
 leave; 220 
 
 And yet I have hated her all my life-time." 
 
 Sloth for sorrow fell down swoon- 
 
 Sloth 
 
 mg. 
 
 Till Vigilate, the watcher, fetched water to 
 
 his eyes, 
 Let it flow on his face, and fast to him 
 
 cried, 
 And said, " Beware of despair, that will 
 
 thee betray. 
 ' I am sorry for my sins,' say to thyself, 
 And beat thyself on the breast, and pray 
 
 God for grace, 
 For there is no guilt so great that His mercy 
 
 is not more." 
 Then Sloth sat up and sighed sore, 
 And made a vow before God, for his foul 
 
 sloth, 230 
 
 "There shall be no Sunday this seven year 
 
 (save sickness it cause) 
 
 That I shall not bring myself ere day to 
 
 the dear church, 
 And hear matins aud mass, as I a monk 
 
 were. 
 No ale after meat shall withhold me thence, 
 Till I have heard evensong, I promise by 
 
 the rood. 
 And 1 yet I shall yield again — if I have so 
 
 much — 
 All that I wickedly won, since I had wit. 
 And though I lack a livelihood I will not 
 
 stop 
 Till each man shall have his own, ere I 
 
 hence wend: 
 And with the residue and the remnant, by 
 
 the rood of Chester, 240 
 
 I shall seek Saint Truth, ere I see Rome! " 
 
 Robert the robber, on Reddite 2 he looked, 
 
 And because there was not wherewith, he 
 
 wept full sore. 
 But yet the sinful wretch said to himself: 
 " Christ, that upon Calvary on the cross 
 
 died'st, 
 Though Dismas 8 my brother besought grace 
 
 of thee, 
 And thou hadst mercy on that man for me- 
 mento* sake, 
 Thy will be done upon me, as I have well 
 
 deserved 
 To have hell for ever if no hope there were. 
 So rue on me, Robert, that no counsel 
 
 have, 250 
 
 Nor ever ween to win by any craft that I 
 
 know. 
 But, for thy much mercy, mitigation I be- 
 seech; 
 Damn me not on Doomsday because I did 
 
 so ill." 
 But what befell this felon, I cannot well 
 
 show, 
 But well I know he wept hard, water with 
 
 his eyes, 
 And acknowledged his guilt to Christ again 
 
 thereafter, 
 That the pikestaff of Penitence he should 
 
 polish anew, 
 And leap with it o'er the land, all his life- 
 time, 
 
 1 Ll. 236-259, dealing with the restitution of stolen 
 goods, appear in C in connection with Avarice. The at- 
 taching of them to Sloth in A and B seems to point to 
 some confusion in the text. Note that in A the sin of 
 Wrath is omitted. 
 
 » Make restitution, Romans, xiii, 7. 
 
 ' The name given to the penitent thief in the apOO- 
 ryphal Gospel of Nieodemut. 
 
 1 Remember me, Luke, xxiii, 42. 
 
5° 
 
 WILLIAM LANGLAND 
 
 For he bath lain by Latro,* Lucifer's brother. 
 
 A thousand of men then throng together, 
 
 Weeping and wailing for their wicked 
 
 deeds, 261 
 
 Crying up to Christ, and to His clean Mother, 
 To give grace to seek Saint Truth, God 
 
 grant they so might ! 
 
 PASSUS VI 
 Now ride these folk, and walk on foot 
 To seek that saint in strange lands. 
 But there were few men so wise that knew 
 
 the way thither, 
 But they bustled forth like beasts, over 
 
 valleys and hills, 
 For while they went after their own will, 
 
 they went all amiss; 
 Till it was late and long, when they a man 
 
 met, 
 Apparelled as a palmer, in pilgrim's weeds. 
 He bore a staff bound round with a broad 
 
 list 2 
 In woodbine wise twisted around. 
 A bag and a bowl he bore by his side ; 10 
 A hundred vials on his hat were set, 
 Signs of Sinai and shells of Galicia; 
 Many a cross on his cloak, and the keys of 
 
 Rome, 
 And the veriiicle in front, that men should 
 
 him know, 
 And see by his signs whom he had sought. 3 
 These folk asked him fairly from whence 
 
 he came. 
 "From Sinai," he said, "and from the 
 
 Sepulchre; 
 From Bethlehem and Babylon, I have been 
 
 in both; 
 In India and in Assisi, and in many other 
 
 places. 
 Ye may see by my signs that sit on my 
 
 hat 20 
 
 That I have walked full wide, in wet and 
 
 in dry, 
 And sought good saints for my soul's 
 
 health." 
 "Knowest thou a holy one men call 
 
 Saint Truth ? 
 Canst thou show us the way to where he 
 
 dwelleth ? " 
 
 1 The word used in Luke of the crucified thieves. 
 
 ! Edge of cloth. 
 
 8 The references here are to the badges showing the 
 shrines a pilgrim had visited : the vial or ampulla for 
 Thomas of Canterbury; the scallop shell for St. James 
 of Compostella in Galicia ; the cross for Palestine ; the 
 keys and the handkerchief of St. Veronica for Rome. 
 " Sinai" refers to the shrine of St. Catharine there. 
 
 " Nay, so God gladden me," said the 
 
 man then, 
 " Saw I never palmer, with pikestaff nor 
 
 with scrip, 
 Such a saint seek, save now in this place." <j 
 "Peter!" quoth a Plowman, and put 
 
 forth his head, 
 "I know him as naturally as a scholar doth 
 
 his books; 
 Clean Conscience and Wit showed me to 
 
 his place, 30 
 
 And pledged me then to serve him for ever. 
 Both in sowing and in setting, while I work 
 
 might, < 
 
 I have been his fellow these fifteen winters; 
 Have both sowed his seed and tended his 
 
 beasts, 
 And also cared for his corn and carried it 
 
 to house, 
 Ditched and delved, and done what he or- 
 dered, 
 Within and without watched his interests; j 
 Among these people is no laborer whom he 
 
 loves more, 
 For though I say it myself, my service him 
 
 pleases. 
 I have my hire of him well, and sometimes 
 
 more; 40 
 
 He is the promptest payer that poor men 
 
 have; 
 He withholds from no kind his hire that he ' 
 
 hath it not at even. 
 He is as lowly as a lamb, lovely of speech; 
 And if ye will wit where he dwelleth 
 I will show you the way home to his place." 
 " Yea, dear Piers," said these palmers, 
 
 and proffered him hire. 
 " Nay, by the peril of my soul," quoth 
 
 Piers, and began to swear, 
 "I would not finger a farthing, for St. 
 
 Thomas's shrine ! 
 Truth would love me the less for a great 
 
 while after ! 
 But, ye that wend to him, this is the way 
 
 thither: 50 
 
 Ye must go through Meekness, both man 
 
 and wife, 
 Till ye come to Conscience, that Christ t 
 
 may know the truth 
 That ye love him dearer than the life in 
 
 your hearts, 
 And then your neighbors next in no wise 
 
 injure 
 Otherwise than thou wouldest that men 
 
 should do to thee. 
 
PIERS THE PLOUGHMAN 
 
 5i 
 
 So bend your way by a brook, Be-obedi- 
 
 ent-in-speeeh, 
 Fortb till ye fiud a ford Honor-your-fathers; 
 Wade in that water, wash yourselves well 
 
 there, 
 And ye shall leap the lightlier all your life- 
 time. 
 Soon shalt thou then see S wear-no t-but- 
 
 thou-have-need — 60 
 
 And-specially-not- in-vain- take- the-naine- 
 
 of-( iod-Almighty. 
 Then will ye come by a croft, but go ye 
 
 not therein, 
 The croft called Covet-not-nien's-cattle- 
 
 nor-their-wives- 
 Nor-none-of - their -servants -that -tbey- 
 
 might-be-hurt; 
 See thou break no bough there, unless it 
 
 be thine own. 
 Two stocks there stand, but stay thou not 
 
 there, 
 They are called Slay-not, Nor-steal-not; 
 
 strike forth by them both; 
 Leave them on thy left hand, look thou not 
 
 after them, 
 And hold well thy holy-day ever till even. 
 Then shalt thou turn aside at a brook, Bear- 
 no-false-witness, 70 
 It is furnished within with florins, and with 
 
 many oaths; 
 See thou pluck no plant there, for peril of 
 
 thy soul. 
 Then shalt thou see Say-sooth, so-it-is-to- 
 
 be-done- 
 And-look-that-thou-lie-not - f or-any-man's - 
 
 bidding. 
 Then shall thou come to a court, clear 
 
 as the sun, 
 The moat is of Mercy, surron nding the manor, 
 And all the walls are of Wit to hold Will 
 
 outside; 
 The battlements are of Christendom, man- 
 kind to save, 
 Buttressed 1 with the Belief wherethrough 
 
 we must be saved. 
 All the houses are roofed, hall and cham- 
 bers, • 80 
 With no lead but Love-as-brethren-of-one- 
 
 m other. 
 The tower wherein is Truth is set above 
 
 the sun, 
 He may do with the day star whatever he 
 
 pleaseth. 
 
 1 Lit., surmounted with wooden boardings, as in 
 mediaeval fortifications. 
 
 Death dare not do anything that he for- 
 biddeth. 
 
 Grace is called the gate-guard, a good man 
 in truth, 
 
 His man is called Amend-thou, for many 
 men know him; 
 
 Tell him this as a token, for truth knows 
 the sooth: 
 
 ' I performed the penance that the priest en- 
 joined me; 
 
 I am sorry for my sins, and so shall I ever 
 be 
 
 When I think thereon, though I were a 
 pope.' 90 
 
 Bid Amend-thou humble himself to his mas- 
 ter once, 
 
 To lift up the wicket gate that the way 
 shut 
 
 When Adam and Eve ate their bane; 2 
 
 For he hath the key of the catch, though 
 the king sleep. 
 And if Grace thee grant to go in in this 
 wise, 
 
 Thou shalt see Truth himself sit in thy 
 heart. 
 
 Then look that thou love Him well, and 
 His law hold ; 
 
 But be well aware of Wrath, that wicked 
 wretch, 
 
 For he hath envy of Him that in thine 
 heart sitteth, 
 
 And putteth forth Pride to praise thy- 
 self. 100 
 
 Boldness in thy good deeds blindeth thine 
 eyes; 
 
 And so art thou driven out and the door 
 closed, 
 
 Locked and fastened to keep thee there- 
 out, 
 
 Haply a hundred year ere thou again en- 
 ter. 
 
 Thus mayst thou lose His love by thinking 
 well of thj'self, 
 
 But get it again by Grace and by no gift 
 else. 
 And there are seven sisters that serve 
 Truth ever, 
 
 And are porters at posterns that to the 
 place belong. 
 
 The first is called Abstinence, and Humility 
 the second, 
 
 Charity and Chastity are two full choice 
 maidens, no 
 
 Patience and Peace many people help, 
 ' B apples unrosted. 
 
52 
 
 WILLIAM LANGLAND 
 
 Largess the lady leadeth in full many. 
 But whoso is sib to these sisters, so help me 
 
 God! 
 Is wonderfully welcome and fairly re- 
 ceived. 
 And, but ye be sib to some of these seven, 
 It is full hard, by my head, any of you all 
 To get entrance at that gate unless greater 
 
 be the grace." 
 " By Christ," quoth a cut-purse, " I have 
 
 no kin there ! " 
 "Nor I," quoth an ape-warden, "for aught 
 
 that I know ! " 
 "Certain," quoth a waferseller, "knew I 
 
 this for truth, 120 
 
 I should go no foot further, for any friar's 
 
 preaching." 
 "Yes," quoth Piers the Plowman, and 
 
 preached for their good, 
 "Mercy is a maiden there and hath might 
 
 over all ; 
 She is sib to all sinful men and her son also; 
 And through the help of these two (no 
 
 other hope have thou,) 
 Thou mightest get grace there, so thou go 
 
 betimes." 
 
 PASSUS VII 
 
 " This would be a wicked way, unless one 
 
 had a guide 
 Who might follow us each step, that there 
 
 we may come." 
 Quoth Perkin the plowman, " By Peter the 
 
 apostle, 
 I have a half-acre to plow, by the high- 
 way; 
 Were it well plowed, then with you would 
 
 I wend, 
 And show you the right way, till ye found 
 
 truth." 
 "That would be a long delay," quoth a 
 
 lady in a veil; 
 " What shall we women work at the while? " 
 " Some shall sew sacks, that the wheat spill 
 
 not, 
 And yc wives that have wool, work on it 
 
 fast, 10 
 
 Spin it speedily, spare not your fingers, 
 Unless it be a holy day, or else a holy eve. 
 Look out your linen, and labor thereon 
 
 fast; 
 The needy and the naked, take heed how 
 
 they lie, 
 And oast on them clothes against the cold, 
 
 for so Truth willeth; 
 
 For I shall grant them livelihood, unless 
 
 the land fail, 
 As long as I live, for our Lord of Heaven's 
 
 love. 
 And ye, lovely ladies, with your long fin- 
 gers, _ 
 That have silk and sendal, 1 sew when you 
 
 have time 
 Chasubles for chaplains, and churches to 
 
 honor; 30 
 
 And all manner of men that by meat live 
 Help him to work well that your food win- 
 
 neth." 
 " By Christ," quoth a knight then, " thou 
 
 knowest us best ! 
 Save one time truly, thus taught was I 
 
 never ! 
 But teach me," quoth the knight; "if I can 
 
 plow, 
 I will help thee to labor while my life 
 
 lasteth." 
 "By Saint Peter," quoth Piers, "since 
 
 thou profferest so humbly 
 I shall work and sweat and sow for us both, 
 And also labor for thy love all my lifetime, 
 On condition that thou keep Holy Church 
 
 and myself 30 
 
 From wasters and wicked men that would 
 
 us destroy. 
 And go thou and hunt hardily hares and 
 
 foxes, 
 Bears and bucks that break men's hedges, 
 And fetch thee home falcons fowls to kill; 
 For they come into my croft and crop my 
 
 wheat." 
 Full courteously the knight conceived 
 
 these words; 
 " By my power, Piers, I plight thee my 
 
 troth, 
 To fulfill the bargain, while I may stand ! " 
 " But yet one point," quoth Piers, " I shall 
 
 pray thee no more; 
 Look thou trouble no tenant, unless Truth 
 
 will assent: 40 
 
 And if poor men proffer you presents or 
 
 gifts, 
 Take them not ; peradventure you may 
 
 them not deserve ; 
 For thou shalt give them back again at one 
 
 year's end, 
 In a place of sore peril that purgatory is 
 
 called. 
 And beat thou not thy bondman, the better 
 
 thou shalt speed, 
 
 1 A thin silken stuff. 
 
PIERS THE PLOUGHMAN 
 
 53 
 
 
 (And be thyself true of tongue, and lying 
 
 tales hate;) 
 Unless it be wisdom or wit thy workmen to 
 
 chastise. 
 Revel not with ribalds, hear not their 
 
 tales, 
 And especially at meat such men eschew, 
 For they are the devil's Taie-Tellers, I let 
 
 thee understand." so 
 
 " I assent, by Saiut James," said the knight 
 
 then, 
 " To work by thy word, while my life en- 
 
 dureth." 
 "And I shall apparel me," quoth Perkin, 
 
 "in pilgrim's wise, 
 And wend with you the right way, till ye 
 
 Truth find." 
 He cast on his clothes, clouted and mended, 
 His garters and his cuffs, to keep his nails 
 
 from cold; 
 He hung a basket on his back, in stead of 
 
 a scrip; 
 A bushel of bread-corn he bringeth therein: 
 "For I will sow it myself, and then with 
 
 you wend. 
 For whoso helpeth me to plow, or do any 
 
 sort of labor, 60 
 
 He shall have, by our Lord, the more hire 
 
 in harvest, 
 And shall make merry with the corn, who- 
 ever begrudgeth. 
 And all kinds of craftsmen that can live 
 
 with Truth, 
 I shall find them their food, if they faith- 
 fully live, 
 Save Jack the juggler, and Janet of the 
 
 stews, 
 And Robert the ribald, for his filthy words. 
 Truth taught it me once, and bade me tell 
 
 it further, 
 Deleantur de libro, 1 I should not deal with 
 
 them, 
 Holy Church is bound from them no tithe 
 
 to take; 
 Et cum justis non scribantur 2 
 They have escaped by good luck ; 3 may 
 
 God amend them ! " 70 
 
 Dame Work-when-there-is-time is the 
 
 name of Piers's wife; 
 His daughter is called Do-right-so-or-thy- 
 
 mother-will-beat-thee; 
 
 1 " Let them be stricken out from the book [of the 
 living]," Psalms, lxix, 28. 
 
 » " And let them not be written with the just." 
 Ibid. 
 
 * A Thei ben a-scaped good thrift. 
 
 His son is called Suffer-thy-sovereigns-to- 
 
 have-their-will- 
 And-judge-them -not, - for-if-thou-do-thou- 
 
 shalt-dearly-pay-for-it. 
 " May God be with all, for so his word 
 
 teacheth ; 
 For now I am old and gray, and have of 
 
 my own, 
 To penance and to pilgrimage I will pass 
 
 with these others. 
 Therefore I will, ere I wend, write my 
 
 testament. 
 In Dei nomine, amen. I make it myself. 
 He shall have my soul that best hath de- 
 served it, 80 
 And defend it from the fiend, for so I believe, 
 Till I come to my account, as my creed me 
 
 telleth, 
 To have release and remission on that 
 
 rental I expect. 
 The church shall have my corpse, and keep 
 
 my bones; 
 For of my corn and capital she craveth the 
 
 tenth. 
 I paid her promptly, to save my soul from 
 
 peril, 
 She is bound, I hope, to bear me in mind, 
 And remember me in her memory among 
 
 all Christians. 
 My wife shall have what I won with 
 
 truth, and no more, 
 And divide with my friends and my dear 
 
 children; 90 
 
 For though I die this day my debts are 
 
 cleared; 
 I bare home what I borrowed ere I to bed 
 
 went : 
 And with the residue and the remnant, by 
 
 the rood of Chester ! 
 I will worship therewith Truth in my life, 
 And be his pilgrim at the plow, for poor 
 
 men's sake. 
 My plough-foot 4 shall be my pikestaff and 
 
 push at the roots, 
 And help my coulter to carve and close the 
 
 furrows." 
 Now have Piers and the pilgrims to the 
 
 plow gone, 
 To plow this half-acre help him full many. 
 Ditchers and del vers dug up the ridges; 5 100 
 Therewith was Perkin pleased, and praised 
 
 them gladly. 
 
 *A plouh-pote (pote= pusher). B plow-fote;'C 
 plouk-fote, plough-foot. 
 ' Left unplowed. 
 
54 
 
 WILLIAM LANGLAND 
 
 Other workmen there were that wrought 
 
 full many, 
 Each man in his manner made himself 
 
 work; 
 And sum, to please Perkin, picked up the 
 
 weeds. 
 At high prime 1 Perkin let the plough 
 
 stand, 
 While he himself oversaw who had best 
 
 wrought ; 
 He should be hired thereafter, when har- 
 vest-time came. 
 Then sat some, and sang at the ale, 
 And helped him to plow with " Hey, trolly- 
 lolly ! " 
 " Now, by the Prince of Paradise," quoth 
 
 Piers then in wrath, no 
 
 " Unless ye rise the sooner and haste ye to 
 
 work, 
 Shall no grain that here groweth gladden 
 
 you at need, 
 And though ye die for lack of it, the devil 
 
 take him that cares ! " 
 Then were the rogues afraid aud feigned 
 
 themselves blind. 
 Some laid their legs across as such scoun- 
 drels can, 
 And complained to Piers, with such piteous 
 
 words: 
 " For we have no limbs to labor with, our 
 
 Lord we thank for it; 
 But we pray for you, Piers, and for your 
 
 plow too, 
 That God of his grace onr grain multiply, 
 And reward you for your alms that ye give 
 
 us here ! 120 
 
 For we may neither work nor sweat, such 
 
 sickness us aileth." 
 " If it be truth that ye say," quoth Piers, 
 
 " soon I shall spy it ! 
 Ye be wasters, I wot, and Truth knows the 
 
 sooth ! 
 I am his old servant, and ought him to warn 
 What wasters in the world his workmen 
 
 destroy. 
 Ye eat what they should eat that plough 
 
 for us all; 
 But Truth shall teach you his team to drive, 
 Both to sow and to set, and save his pro- 
 duce, 
 Scare crows from his corn, and keep his 
 
 beasts, 
 Or ye shall eat barley bread, and of the 
 
 brook drink. 130 
 
 > Nine o'clock in the morning. 
 
 But if they be blind or broken-shanked, or 
 
 bedridden lie, 
 They shall have as good as I, so help me 
 
 God, 
 Till God of his grace cause them to arise. 
 Anchorites and hermits that keep to their 
 
 cells 
 Shall have of my alms, all the while I live, 
 Enough each day at noon, but no more till 
 
 tomorrow, 
 Lest the fiend and their flesh should defile 
 
 their souls; 
 Once at noon is enough for him that no 
 
 work doeth, 
 He abides in better state that tastes not too 
 
 often." 
 Then wasters arose, aud would have 
 
 fought ; 140 
 
 To Piers the Plowman one proffered his 
 
 glove, 
 A Breton, a braggart, boasted himself also, 
 And bade him go hang with his plow, bald- 
 headed wretch f 
 " For we will have of thy flour, willy nilly, 
 And take of thy meat when that us pleaseth, 
 And make ns merry therewith, spite of thy 
 
 face ! " 
 Then Piers Plowman complained to the 
 
 knight, 
 To guard him as agreed from cursed 
 
 wretches, 
 From wasters that lie in wait winners to 
 
 rob. 
 Courteously the knight, as his nature 
 
 was, 150 
 
 Warned wasters and taught them to do 
 
 better; 
 " Or ye shall pay dearly by the law, by the 
 
 order that I bear ! " 
 " I was not wont to work," quoth the waster, 
 
 " I will not begin now ! " 
 And recked little of the law, and less of 
 
 the knight, 
 And counted Piers worth a pea, and his 
 
 plow too, 
 And menaced him and his men, when they 
 
 should next meet. 
 " Now by the peril of my soul," quoth Piers 
 
 the Plowman, 
 "I shall punish you all for your proud 
 
 words!" 
 And whooped after Hunger then, that heard 
 
 him at once : 
 " Wreak me on these wasters," quoth Piers, 
 
 " that this world rob 1 " 160 
 
PIERS THE PLOUGHMAN 
 
 55 
 
 Hunger in haste seized waster by the maw, 
 And wrung him so by the belly that both 
 
 his eyes watered, 
 And buffeted the Breton on both his 
 
 cheeks; 
 He looked like a lantern all his life after. 
 He so beat the boys he nigh burst their 
 
 ribs, 
 Had not Piers with a pease-loaf prayed him 
 
 to cease; 
 And with a bag J of beans beat them both, 
 And hit Hunger therewith between his lips, 
 And he bled inwards a bowlful of gruel ; 
 Had not the physician first forbidden him 
 
 water 170 
 
 To moisten the barley-bread and the ground 
 
 beans, 
 They had been dead by this day, and buried 
 
 all warm. 
 Then rogues for fear flew to barns, 
 And laid on with flails, from morn till even, 
 So that Hunger was not hardy enough even 
 
 to look up 
 For a potful of pease that Piers had made. 
 A band of hermits seized hold of spades, 
 And delved in dirt and dung to drive Hun- 
 ger out. 
 Blind and bedridden were cured a thou- 
 sand, 
 That lie as blind and as broken-legged 180 
 Upon a warm Sunday by the highway; 
 Hunger killed them with a hot cake. 
 Lame men's limbs were rendered lithe that 
 
 time, 
 And tbey became herds, to keep Piers's 
 
 bensts, 
 And prayed, for charity, with Piers to 
 
 dwell, 
 All for craving of his corn, to cast out 
 
 Hunger. 
 Piers was proud thereof, and put them in 
 
 office, 
 And gave them meat and money, as they 
 
 might deserve. 
 Then had Piers pity, and prayed Hunger to 
 
 wend 
 Home to his own hearth, 2 and hold himself 
 
 there forever. igo 
 
 " And yet I pray thee," quoth Piers, " ere 
 
 thou pass hence, 
 With vagabonds and beggars what is best 
 
 to do? 
 I wot well, when thou art gone, they will 
 
 work full ill; 
 1 A bat. * A hurde, earth ; B erde; C erthe. 
 
 It is misfortune rnakelh them to be now so 
 
 meek, 
 And for lack of food thus fast do they work; 
 And they are my blood brethren, for God 
 
 bought us all. 
 Truth taught me once to love them each 
 
 one, 
 And help them in all things, according as 
 
 they need. 
 Yet would I know if thou knewest what 
 
 were the best, 
 And how I might master them, and make 
 
 them work." 20Q 
 
 "Hear now," quoth Hunger, "and hold it 
 
 for wisdom. 
 Bold beggars and rascals that may earn 
 
 their meal by work, 
 With hound-bread and horse-bread hold up 
 
 their hearts, 
 And cheat them with bones 3 against swell- 
 ing of their bellies; 
 And if the fellows grumble, bid them go 
 
 work, 
 And they shall sup the sweeter when they 
 
 have it deserved. 
 And if thou find any fellow that fortune 
 
 hath harmed 
 With fire or with false folk, try such to 
 
 know; 
 Comfort them with thy means, for Christ 
 
 of heaven's love. 
 Love them and lend to them, so the law of 
 
 nature wills. 210 
 
 And all manner of men, that thou mayest 
 
 S P V » 
 That are needy, or naked, and nought have 
 
 to spend, 
 With meat or with money make them fare 
 
 the better, 
 With word or with work while thou art 
 
 here. 
 Make friends with such, for so Saint Mat- 
 thew teacheth, 
 Facite vobis amicos de mammona iniquitatis" * 
 "I would not grieve God," quoth Piers, 
 
 " for all the gold on ground ; 
 Might I do as thou sayest without sin ? " 
 
 said Piers then. 
 " Yea, I promise thee," quoth Hunger, " or 
 
 else the Bible lieth; 
 Go to Genesis the giant, the engenderer of 
 
 us alle; 
 
 ' A bamme hem with bones ; B abate him with benes ; 
 C a-bane hem with benes. 
 
 4 Make for yourselves friends of the mammon of un- 
 righteousness, Luke, xvi, 9. 
 
56 
 
 WILLIAM LANGLAND 
 
 'In sweat and swink thou shalt earn thy 
 
 meat, 1 220 
 
 And labor for thy livelihood,' for so our 
 
 lord ordered. 
 And Sapience said the same, I saw it in the 
 
 Bible. 
 ' Piger propter frigus, 2 no field he till, 
 He shall crave and beg, and no man abate 
 
 his hunger.' 
 Matthew of the man's face 8 utteretb 
 
 these words, 
 ' The unprofitable servant had a talent, and 
 
 because he would not use it 
 He had ill-will of his master evermore 
 
 after ' ; 
 Auferte ab Mo unam, et date illi, etc.,* 
 He took from him his talent, for he would 
 
 not work, 
 And gave it in baste to him that had ten 
 
 before ; 
 And afterwards he thus said, his servants 
 
 it beard, 230 
 
 ' He that hath shall have, to help where 
 
 need is, 
 And he that hath not, nought shall have, nor 
 
 no man help him; 
 And he that hopeth to have, from him it 
 
 shall be taken away.' 
 For Common Sense would that each man 
 
 should work, 
 By teaching or by tillage, or travailing with 
 
 hands, 
 Active life or contemplative; Christ would 
 
 so also. 
 For so saith the Psalter, in the psalm be- 
 ginning, ' Blessed is everyone,' 
 Labores manum taarum quia manducabis, 
 
 etc. 6 
 To him that gets his food here, with travail- 
 ing in truth, 
 God gives his blessing, for his livelihood 
 
 that laboreth." 
 " Yet I pray thee," quoth Piers, "for char- 
 ity, if thou knowest 240 
 Any leaf of leechcraft, let me learn it, my 
 
 dear. 
 For some of my servants are sick at times, 
 
 1 Genesis, iii, 19. 
 
 • The slothful shall not plow by reason of the winter, 
 Proverbs, xx, 4. 
 
 » " An allusion to a common representation of the 
 evangelists which likens Matthew to a man, Mark to 
 a lion, Luke to a bull, and John to an eagle." Skeat. 
 
 1 Take ye away the talent from him, and give to him, 
 etc. Matthew, xxv, 28. 
 
 » For thou ahalteat the labor of thine hands, Psalms, 
 czxviii, 2. 
 
 Work not for a week, so acheth their belly." 
 " I wot well," quoth Hunger, " what sick- 
 ness aileth them; 
 They have eaten in excess, that maketh 
 
 them groan oft. - 
 
 But I command thee," quoth Hunger, " if 
 
 health thou desirest, 
 That on no day thou drink till thou hast 
 
 had some dinner; 
 Eat not, I command thee, till Hunger take 
 
 thee 
 And send thee some of his sauce, the better 
 
 to savor; 
 Keep some till supper-time, and sit not too t 
 
 long, 2 5 o 
 
 Arise up ere appetite have eaten his fill. 
 Let not Sir Surfeit sit at thy board; 
 Love him not, for he is a lecher, and lewd 
 
 of tongue, 
 And after many meats his maw is a-longing. 
 And if thou diet thyself thus, I dare bet 
 
 both mine ears 
 That Physic shall his furred hood for his 
 
 food sell, 
 And eke his Calabrian 6 cloak with buttons 
 
 of gold, 
 And be fain, by my faith, his physic to 
 
 leave, 
 And learn to labor on the land, lest liveli- 
 hood fail. 
 There are more liars than leeches, our Lord » 
 
 them amend! 260 
 
 They do men to death by their drink, ere 
 
 destiny would." 
 " By Saint Paul," quoth Piers, " these be 
 
 profitable words! 
 This is a lovely lesson; our Lord reward 
 
 thee for it ! 
 Away now when thou wilt; be it well with 
 
 thee ever! " 
 " I promise thee," quoth Hunger, " hence 
 
 will I not wend 
 Ere I have dined this day, and drunk too." 
 " I have no penny," quoth Piers, " pullets to 
 
 buy, 
 Neither geese nor pigs, but two green 7 
 
 cheeses. 
 And a little curds and cream, and un- | 
 
 leavened cake, 
 And a loaf of beans and bran, baked for my 
 
 children. 270 
 
 And I say, by my soul, I have no salt bacon, 
 Nor any cook-boys, by Christ, collops to 
 
 make. 
 « Trimmed with grey Calabrian fur. 7 Fresh made. 
 
PIERS THE PLOUGHMAN 
 
 57 
 
 But I have onions and parsley, and many 
 
 cabbages, 
 And eke a cow and a calf, and a cart-mare 
 To draw a-field my dung, while the drought 
 
 lasteth. 
 By these means must I live till Lammas 
 
 time ; 
 By that time I hope to have harvest in my 
 
 croft; 
 Then may I prepare thee dinner as thou 
 
 dearly likest it." 
 All the poor people pease-cods fetched, 
 Beans baked into bread they brought in 
 
 their laps, 280 
 
 Little onions their chief meat, and ripe 
 
 cherries many, 
 And proffered Piers this present, to please 
 
 his hunger with. 
 Hunger ate this in haste, and asked after 
 
 more. 
 Then these folk for fear fetched him many 
 Onions and pease, for they hitn would please ; 
 After these were eaten, he must take his 
 
 leave 
 Till it was near to harvest, when new corn 
 
 came to market. 
 Then were these folk fain, and fed 
 
 Hunger eagerly 
 With good ale and gluttony, and caused 
 
 him to sleep. 
 And then would not the waster work, but 
 
 wandered about, 290 
 
 Nor any beggar eat bread that had beans 
 
 in it, 
 But cocket and clearmatin, 1 and of clean 
 
 wheat; 
 Nor any halfpenny ale in any wise drink, 
 But of the best and the brownest that brew- 
 ers sell. 
 Laborers that have no land to live by, 
 
 but only their hands, 
 Deign not to dine today on yesterday's 
 
 vegetables. 
 No penny-ale may please them, nor a piece 
 
 of bacon, 
 Unless it were fresh flesh, or else fried fish, 
 Hot and very hot, lest they chill their 
 4 stomachs. 
 
 Unless he be hired at a high price, he will 
 
 surely chide, 300 
 
 Call curses on the time that he was made 
 
 a workman, 
 And curse the king hard, and all his council 
 
 after 
 
 1 Kinds of fine bread. 
 
 For enforcing such laws as chastise la- 
 borers. 
 But while Hunger was master here there 
 would none chide 
 
 Nor strive against the statutes, so stern 
 they looked. 
 I warn you all, workmen, win while ye 
 may; 
 
 Hunger hitherward again hieth him in haste. 
 
 He will awake with high-waters 2 the 
 wasters all; 
 
 Ere five years are fulfilled, such famine shall 
 arise, 
 
 Through floods and foul weather fruits shall 
 fail; 310 
 
 And so saith Saturn, and sendeth us warning. 
 
 PASSUS VIII 
 Truth heard tell hereof, and to Piers sent 
 To take his team, and till the earth; 
 And purchased him a pardon a poena et a 
 
 culpa, 3 
 For him and for his heirs, for evermore 
 
 after. 
 And bade him stay at home, and plow his 
 
 leas, 
 And all that ever helped him, to plow or to 
 
 sow, 
 Or any kind of task that might Piers help, 
 Part in that pardon the Pope hath granted. 
 Kings and knights that guard Holy 
 
 Church, 
 Aud rightfully rule the realm and the 
 
 people, 10 
 
 Have pardon through Purgatory to pass 
 
 full soon, 
 With patriarchs in Paradise to play there- 
 after. 
 Bishops that bless, and both the laws 4 
 
 know, 
 Look on the one law and teach men the 
 
 other, 
 And bear them both on their backs, as theit 
 
 banner showeth, 
 And preach to their parsons the peril of sin, 
 How their scabbed sheep shall their wool 
 
 save, 
 Have pardon with the Apostles when they 
 
 pass hence, 
 And at the Day of Doom with them on dais 
 
 sit. 
 Merchants, in the margin, had many 
 
 years' remission, 20 
 
 » Floods. s From punishment and guilt. 
 
 * Duty to God and duty to man. 
 
53 
 
 WILLIAM LANGLAND 
 
 But not a poena et a culpa would the Pope 
 
 them grant. 
 Because they hold not their holy-day as 
 
 Holy Church teacheth, 
 And because they swore by their souls — 
 
 " so help them God ! " — 
 Against their clean conscience, their goods 
 
 to sell. 
 But under his secret seal Truth sent a 
 
 letter, 
 And bade them buy boldly what they liked 
 
 best, 
 And then sell it again, and save the win- 
 ning, 
 And make maison-dkuz 1 therewith, the sick 
 
 to help, 
 And wicked customs vigorously amend; 
 Build again bridges that broken were, 30 
 Help to marry maidens or make them nuns; 
 Poor widows that would not be wives again, 
 Find such their food, for love of God of 
 
 heaven; 
 Let scholars to school, or to some other 
 
 craft, 
 Assist 2 religion, and endow it better; 
 " And I shall send you myself Saint Michael, 
 
 my angel, 
 That no devil shall harm you, when you shall 
 
 die, 
 And hinder me from sending your souls safe 
 
 into heaven, 
 And before the face of my father prepare 
 
 your seats. 
 Usury and avarice and oaths I forbid, 40 
 That no guile go with you, but the grace of 
 
 truth." 
 Then were merchants merry, they wept 
 
 for joy, 
 And give Will for his writing woolen 
 
 clothes; 
 Because he copied thus their clause, they 
 
 gave him great thanks. 
 Men of law had least, for they are loath 
 To plead for mean men, unless they get 
 
 money ; 
 So saith the Psalter and Sapience also. 
 Super innocentes munera non accipiunt. A 
 
 regibus et principibus erit merces 
 
 eorum. 8 
 From princes and prelates their pension 
 
 should come, 
 And from the poor people no pennyworth 
 
 should they take. 
 
 1 Hospitals. 
 8 Psalms, xv, 9. 
 
 2 A Rule; B C Releue. 
 
 But he that spendeth his speech, and 
 
 speaketh for the poor man, 50 
 
 Who is innocent and needy, and no man 
 
 hath harmed, 
 That comforteth him in misfortune, covet- 
 
 eth not his goods, 
 But, for our Lord's love, law for him 
 
 showeth, 
 No devil, at his death-day, shall harm him 
 
 a mite, 
 That he be not secure and safe; and so 
 
 saith the Psalter. 
 Quifacit haec, non movebitur in eternum. 4 
 But to buy water, or wind, or wit (the third « 
 
 thing), 
 Holy Writ would never grant, God knows 
 
 the truth! 
 These three as thralls have grown among 
 
 us all, 
 To wax or to wane, whichever God liketh. 
 His pardon in purgatory is petty, I trow, 60 
 Who any pay from poor men for pleading 
 
 receiveth. 
 Ye lawmakers and lawyers, ye know 
 
 whether I lie; 
 Since ye see that it is so, serve at your best. 
 Living laborers, that live by their hands, 
 That truly give and truly pay their tithes 
 And live in love and in law for their lowly 
 
 hearts, 
 Had the same absolution that sent was to » 
 
 Piers. 
 Askers and beggars are not in the bull, 
 Unless the suggestion be sound that causes 
 
 them to beg. 
 For he that beggeth or asketh, unless he 
 
 have need, 70 
 
 He is false as the fiend, and defraudeth the 
 
 needy, 
 And also beguileth the giver, all against his * 
 
 will. 
 They live not in love, nor any law keep; 
 They wed no women that they have to do 
 
 with; 
 But as wild beasts wickedly work together, 
 And bring forth bairns tbat bastards are 
 
 held. 
 Either their backs or their bones they j 
 
 break in their youth, 
 And go begging with their children ever- 
 more after. 
 There are more misshapen among them, 
 
 whoso takes heed, 
 
 * He that doeth these things shall never be moved, 
 Psalms, xv, 5. 
 
PIERS THE PLOUGHMAN 
 
 59 
 
 Than of all other men that in the world 
 
 wander. 80 
 
 They that live their life thus may loath the 
 
 time 
 That ever they were created men, when 
 
 they shall hence fare. 
 But old men and hoary, that helpless are 
 
 in strength, 
 And women with child, that cannot work, 
 The blind and bedridden, with broken limbs, 
 That take sickness meekly, like lepers and 
 
 others, 
 Have as full pardon as the Plowman him- 
 self; 
 For love of their humble hearts our Lord 
 
 hath them granted 
 Their penance and their purgatory to have 
 
 here upon earth. 
 " Piers," quoth a priest then, " thy par- 
 don must I read, 90 
 For I will construe every clause, and know 
 
 it in English." 
 And Piers, at his prayer, the pardon un- 
 
 foldeth, 
 And I, behind them both, beheld all the 
 
 bull. 
 In two lines it lay, and not a letter more, 
 And was written right thus, in witness of 
 
 truth: 
 Et qui bona egerunt, ibunt in viam eternam; 
 Qui vera mala, in ignem eternum. 1 
 " Peter! " quoth the priest then, "I can no 
 
 pardon find, 
 But ' Do well and have well, and God shall 
 
 have thy sold; 
 And do evil and have evil, hope thou none 
 
 other 
 But that after thy death-day to hell shalt 
 
 thou wend!'" 
 And Piers, for pure vexation, pulled it 
 
 asunder, 100 
 
 And then he said to them these seemly 
 
 sayings: 
 " Si ambulavero in medio umbrae mortis, non 
 
 timebo mala, quoniam tu mecum e.1.' 2 
 I shall cease from my sowing," said Piers, 
 
 "and work not so hard, 
 4 Nor about my livelihood so busy be more! 
 In prayer and in penance my plowing shall 
 
 be hereafter, ^ 
 
 * And those who did good shalt go into eternal life ; 
 but who did evil, into eternal fire. Cf. Matthew, xxv, 
 46. 
 
 ' Though I walk through the valley of the shadow 
 of death, I will fear no evil; for thou art with me, 
 Psalms, xxiii, 4. 
 
 And lower where I laughed, ere my life fail. 
 The prophet his bread ate in penance and 
 
 weeping; 
 As the Psalter says to us, so did many 
 
 others ; 
 Who loveth God loyally, his livelihood is 
 
 plentiful: 
 Fuerunt mihi lacrimae meae panes, die ac 
 
 node. 3 
 And, unless Luke lies, he teacheth us an- 
 other, 
 That too busy we should not be, here upon 
 
 earth, no 
 
 While we dwell in this world, to make glad 
 
 the belly. 
 Ne soliciti sitis,* he saith in his gospel, 
 And showeth it by example our souls to 
 
 guide. 
 The fowls in the firmament, who feedeth 
 
 them in winter ? 
 When the frost freezeth, food they require; 
 They have no granary to go to, yet God 
 
 gives them all." 
 " What ? " quoth the priest to Perkin, "by 
 
 Peter! as methinketh, 
 Thou art lettered a little; who taught thee 
 
 to read ? " 
 "Abstinence the abbess mine ABC me 
 
 taught, 
 And Conscience came after and showed me 
 
 better." 120 
 
 "Were thou a priest," quoth he, "thou 
 
 mightest preach when thou couldst; 
 ' Quoniam literaturam non cognovij 6 might 
 
 be thy theme! " 
 "Lewd losel!" quoth he, "little lookest 
 
 thou on the Bible, 
 Solomon's sayings seldom thou beholdest; 
 ' Sling away these scorners,' he saith, ' with 
 
 their vile scolding, 
 For with them readily I care not to rest;' 
 Ejice derisores etjurgia cum eis, ne crescant." 6 
 The priest and Perkin then disputed to- 
 gether, 
 And through their words I awoke, and 
 
 waited about, 
 And saw the sun in the south just at that 
 
 time. 129 
 
 Meatless and moneyless on Malvern hills, 
 Musing on this dream, a mile length I went. 
 
 8 My tears have been my meat day and night, 
 Psalms, xlii, 3. 
 
 * Be not anxious, etc., Matthew, vi, 25. 
 
 5 For I have known no learning, Psalms, lxxi, 15 
 (Vulgate). 
 
 • Proverbs, xxii, 10 (translated in previous lines). 
 
6o 
 
 WILLIAM LANGLAND 
 
 Many a time this dream has made me to 
 study 
 For love of Piers the Plowman, full pen- 
 sive in my heart; 
 For it I saw sleeping, if such a thing might 
 
 be. 
 But Cato construeth it nay, and the canon- 
 lawyers too, 
 And say themselves, " Somnia ne cures." 1 
 But as for the Bible, bear witness how 
 Daniel divined the dreams of a king, 
 Whom Nebuchadnezzar 2 these clerks name. 
 Daniel said, " Sir King, thy dream means 
 That strange knights shall come thy king- 
 dom to claim; 141 
 Among lower lords thy land shall be di- 
 vided." 
 As Daniel divined, it fell out indeed after, 
 The king lost his lordship, and lesser men 
 it had. 
 And Joseph dreamed dreams, full mar- 
 velous also, 
 How the sun and the moon and eleven stars 
 Fell before his feet and saluted him all. 
 "Beaujils" quoth his father, "for famine 
 
 we shall, 
 I myself and my sons, seek thee in need." 
 It fell out as the father said, in Pharaoh's 
 time, 150 
 
 Whore Joseph was justice, Egypt to keep. 
 
 All this maketh me on dreams to think 
 Many a time at midnight, when men should 
 
 sleep, 
 On Piers the plowman, and what sort of 
 
 pardon he had, 
 And how the priest impugned it, all by pure 
 
 reason, 
 And divined that Do-well surpassed an in- 
 dulgence, 
 Bienals and trienals 8 and bishops' letters. 
 Do-well on doomsday is worthily praised, 
 He surpasseth all the pardons of St. Peter's 
 
 church. 
 Now hath the Pope power pardon to grant, 
 The people without penance to pass into 
 joy. 161 
 
 1 Take no heed of dreams, Dionysius Cato, Distich, 
 ii, 31. 
 
 s Really Belshazzar, as Skeat shows. Daniel, v, 28. 
 » Masses for the dead said for two and three years. 
 
 This is a part of our belief as learned men 
 teach us, 
 Quodcunque ligaveris super terram, erit 
 ligatum et in coelis.* 
 
 And so believe I loyally (our Lord forbid I 
 should other) 
 
 That pardon and penance and prayers do 
 save 
 
 Souls that have sinned seven times deadly. 
 
 But to trust to trienals truly methinketh 
 
 Is not so secure for the soul, certes, as Do- 
 well. 
 
 Therefore I counsel you men that are rich 
 on earth, 
 
 Trusting by your treasure trienals to have, 
 
 Be ye none the bolder to break the ten com- 
 mandments. 170 
 And especially ye mayors, and ye master 
 judges, 
 
 That have the wealth of this world, and for 
 wise men are held, 
 
 To purchase pardon and the Pope's bulls, 
 
 At the dreadiul day of doom, when the dead 
 shall arise 
 
 And come all before Christ, and accounts 
 yield 
 
 How thou leddest thy life, and his law kept- 
 est, 
 
 What thou didst day by day, the doom will 
 rehearse; 
 
 A pouchf ul of pardon there, with provincial 
 letters, 
 
 Though thou be found in fraternity among 
 the four orders, 
 
 And have indulgence doubled, unless Do- 
 well thee help, 180 
 
 I would not give for thy pardon one pie-heel ! 
 
 Therefore I counsel all Christians to cry 
 Christ mercy, 
 
 And Mary his mother to be their intercessor, 
 
 That God give us grace, ere we go hence, 
 
 Such works to work, while we are here, 
 
 That after our death-day, Do-well rehearse, 
 
 At the day of doom, that we did as he us 
 told. 
 
 Explicit hie Visio Willelmt de Petro de 
 Ploughman. 
 
 « What things soever ye shall bind on earth shall be 
 bound in heaven, Matthew, xviii, 18. 
 
 H 489 85 
 

 
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